Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption
by TheLomster
Summary: Jello Biafra is just your average punk rocker... until that is, his charity show at the loony bin gets interrupted by Tipper Gore, head of the Parents Music Resource Center(PMRC). Along with the help of the No More Censorship Defense Fund(NMCDF) Jello and friends must thwart the plans of the evil PMRC and restore peace to the world!


This work is based purely in fiction and any relation to real life events is purely coincidental.

**Chapter 1: Tipper Gore VS the Forces of Punk Rock**

Birds chirped peacefully as the sun rose up over the San Francisco bay. When the clock struck seven, sin filled the room as Jello Biafra's punk rock themed alarm clock began to chime. Jello stretched his arms then silenced his clock radio. He stood up and thought about how happy he was to finally have the race car themed bed of his dreams. However, he didn't make his bed, because Jello isn't another cog in the machine.

He walked over to his mirror, and said, "I'm so excited to be singing another charity event at the insane asylum today." But he didn't comb his hair, because Jello isn't a part of the system.

Jello put on his favorite shirt, one that had "rebel" written on it in a bold font. It was his favorite because he got it for just fifty cents at Goodwill. He stepped out into the San Francisco morning fog. Thanks to San Francisco's thriving public transportation system, Jello had arrived at the insane asylum within the hour.

The stage in the insane asylum was surrounded by a several feet thick stone wall. It was comforting to Jello, since it meant that he didn't have to see the terrible outside world. The crowd was smaller than expected, since most of the inmates were sensitive to loud noises, and couldn't attend, but that didn't phase Jello. He was dedicated to using punk rock for the forces of good.

Jello started playing one of his best songs, _Soup is Good Food._ All went smoothly, until he got to the part that goes, "So say uncle; And we'll take you to the mental health zoo; Force feed you mind-melting chemicals; Til even the outside world looks great," when suddenly, the asylum wall exploded, and from the miserable outside world emerged Tipper Gore, riding upon a military grade tank, labeled PMRC.

"The Parents Music Resource Center has finally found you Jello," Tipper shouted, "You have spread punk rock for the last time!"  
Jello got on his hands and knees and shouted, "Nooooooo! I just wanted to help out the retards!" A PMRC agent walked over and roundhouse kicked Jello in the jaw, knocking him out instantly.

When Jello awoke he was sitting in a cramped prison sell with no view of the outside. He stood up in a daze and stumbled toward the bars where he could see a prison guard engaging in the consumption of illicit materials while on the job. How shocking! "Where am I?" Jello mumbled.

The prison guard stood up and slapped Jello across his already aching jaw. "Your in Alcatraz _biiiiiiiitch._"

"Noooooo!" Jello shouted.

The guard laughed maniacally. He picked Jello up by his collar, spun him around several times until his linear velocity neared, but did not exceed, the speed of sound, then released him, sending him flying several hundred feet into the mess hall, where he only stopped because he crashed into and utterly destroyed a set of foldable tables alongside the wall.

Jello was dazed but not unconscious, and when he regained his senses, he saw none other than Al Capone towering menacingly above him. "Eyy!," Al shouted, "I'm walking here!"

Jello simply moved out of Al's way, but little did he know, this was Al Capone's secret signal to his cronies to beat the shit out of someone. Before Jello knew it, he was surrounded on all sides by Capone's nefarious henchman, on the receiving end of all the punches and kicks in the world. Just as Jello felt his vision fading and he felt satan's warm comforting grasp, Prince swung in from the ceiling on a grappling hook, taking out all of Al Capone's henchmen in one foul swoop. Prince landed heroically with his arms folded. Standing behind him were fourteen other musicians.

"Jello," Prince asked, "Are you okay?"

Even though Jello had just been on the brink of death, he stood up, unscathed. "Prince! What are you doing here?"

"I'm glad you ask," Prince replied, "I think we're in quite the same situation."

"You've been targeted by the PMRC?"

"Precisely. Now I and the other members of the filthy fifteen are going to try to escape, and we want your help!"

"How are we going to escape?"  
"We've recruited the help of two experienced inmates who say they'll help us."

"Who?" Jello inquired.

"They're brothers, named John and Clarence Anglin."

Suddenly Al Capone showed up again, but this time he was really angry. His face was red, and he was breathing heavily. "I'm walkin' here!"

The filthy fifteen immediately sprung into action. AC/DC played a super radical guitar riff, sending Al Capone flying. He crashed through a window, collided with several seagulls, and eventually found a place in the icy cold waters of the San Francisco bay. Jello and Axl Rose high-fived, sending shockwaves of hope throughout the greater bay area.

"Now let's get down to business," said Prince. He called out the Anglins. "John and Clarence here are good swimmers, so when we escape from here we'll all swim on their backs."

"I see nothing wrong with that," Jello replied.

"Good, then let's get to it."

The eighteen walked out Alcatraz's front door. John and Clarence got into the freezing water, and each allowed for eight people to ride on their backs. They swam at lightning speed, and in less than five seconds had arrived at San Francisco's shore.

"How can we ever thank you for your help?" Prince asked the Anglins.

"It's no skin off our backs," said Clarence.

"Yes," explained John, "We have a friend named Tupac in Cuba who's going to give us a nice place to stay."

"I'm glad to hear that," Prince said.

They all hugged each other, and probably cried too, I don't know. It was overall an emotional moment, and then the Anglins left, and they immediately went back to feeling absolutely nothing.

"Now what do we do?" Jello asked.

"Good question," said Prince. He looked down at the ground, where there happened to be a sewer grate, even though they were on a beach. Prince knelt down, ripped the sewer cover off with his bare hands, then tossed it several miles away like a frisbee. "Down here." He and the other members of the filthy fifteen leapt into the sewer, and Jello followed along. He slid through several miles of pipes, until he emerged inside a super secret base, with all the blinking lights and everything.

"What is this place," Jello asked curiously.

"This," explained Prince, "Is the main base of the No More Censorship Defense Fund, also known as the NMCDF. We have branch bases, but this is our main headquarters. Here we spend every waking moment of our lives fighting the PMRC. You may know them as the Parents Music Resource Center, but the only name they're known by here is People Making Retarded Choices."

Meanwhile in the PMRC headquarters, Tipper Gore feels the shockwave of hope and enlightenment that was released by Jello and Axl's super rad high-five. She is infuriated, because she knows that with their escape, she and the PMRC have already lost.

Now, with their greatest enemy angered, what awaits the NMCDF? Will they succeed against the corrupt PMRC? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 2: Jello Runs for Mayor**

Jello's feet clanked against the hollow metal floor of NMCDF headquarters. Agents clacked away at computers, analyzing various maps and news on PMRC operations. Lights blinked on and off in every corner of the cold underground room.

"So how are we going to take down the PMRC?" Jello inquired.

Prince spun around dazzlingly then menacingly pointed downward at Jello. A shadow was cast beneath his jaw. "Are you sure you're ready to hear our true plan?"

Jello adjusted his stance and clenched his fists confidently. He nodded his head.

Prince lowered his hand. "Good, I was hoping that would be your answer."

"So what's the plan?"

"You are going to run…" Princes voice crescendoed with a deep, manly infliction. "For mayor!"

"Mayor?" Jello was confused. "Of San Francisco?"

"Not just mayor of San Francisco! But mayor of America! And of Hell! Also known as the unholy trinity."

"I understand San Francisco and America, but why Hell?"

"Good question Jello. You must run for mayor of hell so that you can recruit Satan's army of demons as an army to fight the PMRC."

"Do they even have democratic elections in Hell?"

"Another good question," Prince replied, "You see democracy is a result of freewill, and since freewill results in sin, democracy is a sin."

Jello nodded his head. "Makes sense."

"Good, then let's get started." Prince reached over and pressed one of the many flashing buttons on the side of the wall and a large tube instantly descended from the ceiling and absorbed the two heroes. They circumnavigated miles of tubes until they finally popped out at their destination. In front of them stood a classy, yet grandiose, building, one constructed in a classical Roman style to its very core. It had a thick central tower that concluded with a gray-blue dome, topped off with a spike looking thing. The base of the central area was relatively cubic. At its front stood four pillars and at its top stood a triangular prism whose hypotenuse was rather obtuse. To its left and right were two long wings, each lined with their own set of stone pillars.

"What is this?" Jello asked. "Did you take me back to ancient Greece?"

"No," Prince replied, "This is city hall. However, we very easily could be in Greece, since our teletubes™ do have time travel capabilities."

"Let's burn this place down."

"Now now, don't let your anarchist desires consume you Jello," Prince explained, "For now you will have to play the game of democracy, or else the world will be consumed by the PMRC and their fascism."

"Fuck."

"Yep, now let's go register you for your mayoral run."

They attempted to walk through the front doors of city hall, but none other than Dan White was waiting for them. He stood across the entire length of the entrance, his arms folded menacingly.

"May we please pass?" Prince begged politely.

Dan flared his nostrils then flexed his muscles, ripping his shirt into several pieces in glorious fashion. The buttons flew off of his shirt at insurmountable speeds, instantly blinding several dozen passersby. "Don't fuck with me. I fought in VIetnam. I was a Sergeant in the U.S. Army. And if to you I am a Sergeant, to me you are a bitch. I _am _a Roman Catholic. God _is _on my side, and God _does _hate gays _and _punk rock."

"How did you get so powerful?" Jello asked.

"Heh," Dan scoffed, "I went on a special diet! You'll never know what it is though! What you should know is that this building is now property of the PMRC, and the only way you'll be able to register for mayor is if you can defeat me."

Jello gawked at Dan's impressive muscles. He could not be afraid. He ran up to the mountain of a man a punched him with all his force. Dan was unmoved. Dan chuckled sardonically. He poked Jello with his pinkie finger. The world seemed entirely still for a few moments, then a blast of air formed around Jello, and he was sent flying several hundred feet away from city hall.

Prince ran back to Jello, who was foaming at the mouth and hyperventilating. He had obvious damage to his ribs and had probably punctured a lung. "This is bad," Prince said, "Jello, you have to get stronger. You need to figure out Dan White's secret diet and take him down."

"Glarglrlgarglralgra," replied Jello, still foaming at the mouth.

"Snap out of it Jello! You only have one week to register for your mayoral run!"

"What!?" All of Jello's ailments were immediately cured. "Only one week?"

"Yes."

"Fuck."

"Yep."

"What are we going to do?" Jello asked.

"You have to right a song," explained Prince, "A song the likes of which have never been seen before. A song with political commentary so beleaguering that Dan White literally dies."

"How's that supposed to work?"

"We don't know how it works yet, we're still researching it at the NMCDF, but we do know that punk rock has the ability to cancel out the powers of the PMRC."

And so Jello Biafra returned to NMCDF headquarters to work on his song. He toiled day after day, sometimes not eating, sometimes not sleeping, and the deadline quickly encroached.

"How's the song coming along?" Prince asked.

Jello looked up at Prince. He had a manic look in his eyes. His hair was messy. There were soup stains on his shirt. It was overall a bad scene. "This is overall a bad scene," mumbled Jello as he grasped his head with both hands. "I've written nothing, and we only have one day left! It's a classic case of writer's block!"

"Oh noooooooo!" Prince placed both his hands on his cheeks as the camera zoomed in and out on his face.

"I think I know what we need to do!"

"What?"

Jello whispered in Princes ear even though there was literally no one who could possibly be eavesdropping on their conversation and Prince nodded along.

Later that night, the two stood outside of Dan White's house, and looked inside his window. Even though his house was two stories, the second floor had to be removed because Dan White had gotten so swole that he could no longer fit inside his own home. Dan White sat in a recliner, watching American football on his tube TV, as any all-American boy would, munching peacefully on a twinkie. In fact, twinkies were everywhere in his house. Wrappers strewn about the floor, boxes lining the walls, there wasn't a place without them.

"Are twinkies the source of his power?" Prince questioned.

"I've got it!" Jello shouted. "I know what the song is going to be about!"

Dan stood up. "Who's there," his voice boomed.

Prince and Jello looked at each other. "Let's get out of here," Prince exclaimed.

Dan stomped over to his window and punched an elephant-sized hole in his wall. "You'll pay for this Jello Biafra!" But it was too late, they had already escaped back to the NMCDF.

As they were being transported through the teletubes™ Jello noticed Prince holding something. "What's that?" Jello asked.

"Oh this?" Prince held up a small piece of transparent plastic. "I snagged this as we were running away. This is a wrapper to one of Dan's twinkies. I'm going to have the boys back at headquarters do some tests on it." The conversation paused for a few moments. "Are you nervous about taking Dan down tomorrow."

"Not at all." Jello grinned. "This song idea is too good for it not to work."

The next day came too soon, and Jello and Dan were seen grimacing at one another outside city hall. Jello pulled out his guitar.

"Hahaha," Dan laughed smugly, "You really think that silly guitar will be able to defeat me?"

Jello grew disheartened, but he did not falter. He continued setting up his musical equipment. The microphone he set up buzzed subtly. He began his song. "Drinkin' beer in the hot sun, I fought the law..." he sung.

Dan folded his arms. "Unbelievable!" he exclaimed, "You really think a cover of a song by _The Clash _will take me down! Despicable!"

Jello stumbled over his words upon hearing Dan's cruel criticism, but he continued nonetheless. "Twinkies are the best friend I ever had, I fought the law, and I won."

Dan's eyes widened. "Nooooo! How did you know!?" he screamed.

Jello smirked. He sung, "I blew George and Harvey's brains out with my six gun, I fought the law, and I won!"

"Nooooooo!" Dan squealed like a cornered pig. "Don't bring that up! You'll only ruin my already diminished public opinion!"

A crowd began to form around Jello. Whispering were heard in the crowd. "Man this Dan White guy really sounds like a dick."

Dan continued screaming, and soon public opinion of him had sunk so low that his face literally began to melt like that one scene in Indiana Jones. "You'll pay for this," Dan White shouted as he ascended up to heaven, where every Catholic all-American boy goes.

Jello tossed his guitar to the side. He sprinted past Dan White's melted corpse and up the steps of city hall. He ran up to the reception desk, and said, "I'd like to run for mayor."

"Certainly," replied the receptionist.

And so it was the Jello Biafra began his fateful run for San Francisco mayor. But what awaits him on the campaign trail? Will he encounter any agents of the PMRC during his mayoral run? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 3: Jello Runs for Mayor 2: Electric Boogaloo**

Jello, along with members of the filthy fifteen, sat around a table in a conference room, sipping tea in a sophisticated manner while dressed in suits purchased from Goodwill at bargain prices. Prince cleared his throat to indicate that he intended to speak. Other members of the board recognized this, and quieted down.

"I have gathered you here today," said Prince, "To discuss strategy for Jello's mayoral run. I think a good starting point would be a tour along the BART line, you know, mingling with the common folk, getting his name out there."

"That sounds great," Jello interjected, "but who exactly are my opponents?"

"Great question. Your greatest opponents will be Quentin Kopp and Dianne Feinstein."

"What are their weaknesses?"  
"Kopp has a quite easily exploitable weakness, but Feinstein is another story. She may be the greatest opponent you've had to face as of yet."

"That is concerning, but right now we should focus on what we can do, rather than what we can't. That being the case, what is Kopp's weakness?"

"Madonna," Prince directed his attention at his counterpart. "If you would do the honors."

"Of course," replied Madonna. She stood up and stepped out of the room. Jello glanced around nervously at his fellow board members. He wondered what ancient and sacred device could possibly take down the seemingly insurmountable force that is Quentin Kopp. He sweated profusely. He heard the door being nudged open. He caught Madonna out of the corner of his eye. In her hand she held a large dish in her hands, but whatever was on that dish was being concealed by a large dome. Jello's heart beat so fast that it felt like that one scene in Temple of Doom where Indiana Jones' still beating heart is ripped from his chest. Madonna placed the dish on the conference table and slowly lifted the dome to reveal…

"A phone?" Jello asked in a confused manner.

"Yes," replied Prince, "The greatest weakness of the insurmountable force that is Quentin Kopp is a phone."

"How?"

"Kopp has his phone number listed in the local telephone directory and is well known to answer calls at any hour of the day. I'm sure you could see how a phone could be a very exploitable weakness."

"Yes, but how are we going to use it to our advantage?"

Prince took a deep breath. "You're going to have to use the forbidden words."

"No." A look of awe came over Jello and everyone else's face.

"Yes, I know you may not like it, but you're going to have to say them if you care about taking down the PMRC and saving the world."

Jello gulped and his Adam's apple vibrated vigorously. He picked up the phone and dialed Quentin Kopp's number. The phone rang for a few moments before someone answered in a soft-spoken and kind-hearted voice.

"Hello, this is Quentin speaking."

"Your… Your…" Jello struggled to let the devastating word escape his mouth, but eventually the words squeezed past his anguish. "Your gay!"

"What?" Kopp was confused. "My gay? That doesn't make any sense son. I think you're using the wrong form of 'your.'."

"You're gay!"

Kopp paused for a few moments, grasping the full extent of words just spoken to him, then began shouting, "Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" Kopp dropped out of the race the next day.

The next day, Jello was sitting around NMCDF HQ, twiddling his thumbs, when Prince walked up to him and said, "Jello, you need to prepare for your first campaign speech in a few hours! What are you doing sitting here!"

"Sorry," Jello replied, "Sometimes all this PMRC stuff can get a little overwhelming."

Prince decided to soften his tone. "I suppose that's understandable. I know I wouldn't be able to do it."

"Thank you for your kind words, I'll get to writing that campaign speech "

Several hours later, Jello stood in front of a diverse crowd of thousands of San Francisco citizens. Many were holding signs, one of which read, "If Jello doesn't win I'll kill myself." Needless to say the pressure was high, and that doesn't even take into consideration the risk of a PMRC attack. He addressed them thusly;

"My fellow San Franciscans, we are gathered here today because I want to be mayor. And you should totally vote for me. If I get elected I will legalize squatting in abandoned buildings. All businessmen will be required to wear clown suits within the city. Police officers will be elected by citizens of the neighborhoods they patrol. There will be citywide ban on cars. We will hire unemployed workers to panhandle in wealthy neighborhoods. And last, but certainly not least, we will erect statues of Dan White along with stands selling eggs and tomatoes so that people can throw them at the statues. I know these are very important issues that you all really care about, so you should totally vote for me. And remember, there's always room for Jello!"

Thus ending his speech. The crowd was swept into an uproar. Legend has it that the cheers of the fans could be heard all the way over in Sacramento. But the celebration would not last for long. A new opponent was appearing over the horizon. Who could this enemy be? How will Jello defeat them? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 4: Jello Runs for Mayor 3: Arena**

As Jello descends from the peak that was his masterful campaign speech, a new enemy appears over the horizon. The crowd's cheers quickly turned into screams as a street sweeper emerged on the bloodstained streets. Jello's adoring fans attempted to scatter, but some were not so lucky. They were swept into the street sweepers burgeoning brush and turned into a human oatmeal. Jello could only look on in horror as his voters were ripped from his grasp.

Jello looked at Prince. "What are we going to do?"

Prince rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "This is your chance. Prove to the people of San Francisco that you and you alone are worth voting for. In other words, destroy that street sweeper and arrest whoever is driving it!"

"Me?" Jello questioned. "How could I possibly destroy a machine of that size and power?"

Prince placed his hand sincerely on Jello's shoulder. "Jello. I know I haven't given you much combat training, but there is a special technique that I'm going to have to teach on the fly if you want there to be enough people alive to vote for you. Jello…" Prince took a deep breath and looked dramatically into the distance. "The PMRC is a machine. A machine much more vast and much more powerful than a mere street sweeper. The PMRC could obliterate every street sweeper in the world if they so desired. The NMCDF is the only opposition the PMRC has. If you can't destroy a simple street sweeper, then how could you possibly destroy the PMRC? If you don't believe in yourself, then how could you succeed in anything. It doesn't matter that it is physically impossible for a single man to stop a street sweeper with his bare hands. If you want to destroy that sweeper, then you need to believe that you can. Now go! Go become mayor of San Francisco! Do it for the sake of the world! Do it for the things you believe in! Do it to tell the PMRC that our music will not be censored!"

Jello stood at the podium and stared at the street sweeper slowly approaching. He clenched his fists. He stood strongly with his legs in a stable fighting stance. "I want to believe." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, exploring the depths of his very psyche. "I want to believe." He clenched his fists harder. He began to shake. Sweat began to extrude forth from every pore in his body. "I want to believe." The distant screams wrapped around his mind and held it hostage. "I want to believe. But I cannot." He exhaled and gave a dejected look to Prince.

"You are pathetic." In that moment Prince seemed to tower over Jello, pointing a disappointed finger at his cohort. "It looks like I'll have to do the dirty work myself. Watch Jello! And learn the power of believing in yourself!"

Prince leapt several dozen feet through the air and landed on his feet in front of the street sweeper. He held his arms out wide, preparing to take in the force of the street sweeper head on. Once the sweeper reached him, he pushed against it's force. The machine pushed against him, but he dug his feet into the pavement, sending cracks flying though the road. Once the sweeper had ground to a halt, he lifted it up above his head and shook it vigorously until its occupants came tumbling out of the machine, subsequently landing on the road and creating a several foot wide crater. Seeing as its occupants had been shown the exit, he discarded of the machine by conveniently throwing it several hundred feet into the nearby and turned his attention to the women laying on the ground in front of him. "I can't believe you decided to show your face around me again… Dianne Feinstein!"

Dianne Feinstein gave Prince a sinister grin. "I could be saying the same thing. I have a hard time believing that you would even dare to attempt oppose the PMRC after what happened."

"That was in the past. Now is the present, and in the present, you'll be defeated, and the NMCDF will stop the PMRC and its evil ways!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it!" Feinstein posed her hand like spiderman when he shoots his web, but instead of a web shooting out, leaves shot out at lightning speed, cutting both of Prince's legs and knocking him to the ground instantly. "You've insulted me for the last time Prince!" She stood menacingly of Prince's incapacitated body.

"Not if we have anything to say about it," said Madonna. Feinstein turned around to see the other fourteen members of the filthy fifteen surrounding her.

Feinstein smirked. It appears that I am outmatched. She snapped her fingers, and a whirlwind of leaves spun around her, and when the winds dissipated, Feinstein was gone.

The filthy fifteen looked all around, but she was nowhere to be seen. Feinstein had outwitted them.

Several hours later, back at NMCDF headquarters, the members of the filthy fifteen were holding a meeting to discuss how they would take down Dianne Feinstein once and for all, but due to his recent failures, Jello was not invited.

Jello peaked his head into the boardroom to see the fifteen deep in thought, no one saying a single word. "I think I might have some ideas on defeating Feinstein."

"Not now Jello," replied Prince in a demeaning manner, "We're discussing very important things."

"This isn't fair. How come I'm not being included in discussions about my own mayoral campaign!"

Prince stood angrily from his seat. "You still have much to learn Jello. If you can't defeat Feinstein on your own then you for sure can't defeat Tipper Gore on your own."

"Fine!" Jello stormed out of the room. "If they won't listen to my ideas, then I'll just have to defeat Feinstein on my own." He opened up the custodial closet and pulled out a vacuum, then ventured all the way to Feinstein's home in a wealthy neighborhood, where he vacuumed up every leaf in her yard.

Jello returned to headquarters without much fanfare, and the next day Prince said to Jello, "We've pinpointed Feinstein's location. Come on, we're stopping her campaign once and for all."

"Oh really," Jello replied, "Where is she? I'm sure I could defeat her on my own."

"Why are you so sure of yourself all of a sudden?"

"You'll see, just take me to her."

The two went to Feinstein's current location, where the found Feinstein committing her usual menacing acts. "You thought you could defeat me in your weakened state Prince?"

Jello snickered, "You're wrong! Prince isn't the one who is weakened, you are!"

"You are a fool!" She attempted to shoot leaves out of her hands, but nothing came out. "What? Where are the leaves!"

Prince saw his opportunity and sprung into action. He called in the other members of the filthy fifteen to surround and capture her so that she could be questioned on her knowledge of the PMRC back at NMCDF headquarters.

"How did you take her abilities away?" Prince questioned Jello.

"Last night, during your meeting, since none of you would listen to me, I took it upon myself to remove Feinstein's source of leaves, which happened to be the leaves in her backyard."

"Well, I'm sorry I doubted you Jello. You may be mayor now, but you've still got a long way to go in terms of your training, but I promise I won't doubt you again. Let's get you ready for your inauguration."

So Jello is mayor now, but at what cost? Does it not just make him an even greater target for the PMRC? And he still has yet to become president! What awaits Jello as he faces these realizations? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 5: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy**

Here we find Jello, sitting around NMCDF headquarters, waiting for orders to be given out. He was told that being mayor meant a lot more responsibilities, but it sure doesn't feel like it. It's been days since he won the election, and for what? To allow himself no responsibility, to be a puppet of the NMCDF? Prince! Come give Jello his mission before this story gets bland!

Prince stepped into the room. "Jello!" Prince looked down at his colleague. "I know you've just become mayor of San Francisco, but news has come up elsewhere."

"What?" Jello questioned. "I finally become mayor just to get shipped off to some distant place? Where is it you're disposing of me anyway?"

Prince explained, "We have gotten news of PMRC activity all around England." He turned to show Jello a computer screen, on which was a sky blue outline of England. The map was dotted in several places where there had presumably been PMRC activity. "We're sending you on a mission to England to take down their branch of the PMRC and save England from their fatile grasp. You'll be meeting with an NMCDF associate later today and you two will go to our England branch to investigate."

"It feels like you're just trying to get rid of me so that you can run San Francisco with no opposition." The blue light of the screen echoed off of their faces within the dark corridors.

"Jello, I understand that we may have had a few breaches of trust recently, but I assure you that every action the NMCDF takes is done with only the best intentions."

"Well… ok, I guess I can trust you just this once.

"Good! Pack your things! Your meeting with our associate is in a few hours."

Several hours later…

We find Jello on a street corner. Standing next to him is one familiar face and one unfamiliar face. That familiar one would be Prince, and that unfamiliar one would be a spikey-haired fellow, whose name is unknown to us. He wore a sleeveless shirt and skinny jeans with a chain on their side. He seemed a true, dignified punk-rocker.

"Hello," said Jello, "My name is Jello Biafra, I do not believe I have made your acquaintance before, but I am pleased to make it."

"I am John Lyndon, but most people know me as Johnny Rotten, it is a pleasure to meet you." The most noticeable thing about Johnny Rotten was his voice. He sported a thick British accent, but unlike the average British accent, which came off as upper class and dignified, his accent gave off an air of raw power. The unfiltered nature of his voice fit his aesthetic to a tee.

"Good," Prince interjected, "Now that our introductions are complete, let's go over the plan. You two will fly to London, but you must pose as non-NMCDF forces, since PMRC agents are crawling all over the airports. Once you're in London, you'll rendezvous with NMCDF agents who will take you to England headquarters. You got all that?"

Johnny and Jello nodded their heads.

"Good," Prince replied, "Here are your fake passports. If anyone at that airport finds out you are punk rock musicians you'll get arrested immediately. Be careful!"

In a few hours, Johnny and Jello found themselves on a plane, headed to London, breeding ground for pro-censorship pricks like the PMRC.

Jello breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm really glad we made it onto the plane without much trouble."

Johnny chuckled. "Once you've made this trip as many times as I have you kinda forget how dangerous it is."

"Really?" Jello questioned. "How many times have you travelled between London and San Francisco?"

"Hmm…" Johnny rubbed his chin. "I'd say about ten. Probably more."

"Wow. What inspired you to pursue such a dangerous line of work?"

"I am a man who is bound to his ideals," Johnny explained, "If I did not fight for the things I believed in then I would see no purpose in living.

"And what would those ideals be?"

"Well, growing up in a society like England, a society whose basis is a long history of classicism, I believed strongly that all people should be treated as equals, and that no class structure, whether intentional or unintentional, should exist. England is also a very pro-censorship place. They want everything to be all clean and they want to ignore all the bad stuff in this world. It's a detriment being raised in a place like that, and if the PMRC gets a hold of England, then all that stuff can only get worse."

"How inspiring," Jello replied.

"What about you?" Johnny asked, "What inspired you to join the NMCDF?"

"Well…" Jello took a few moments to think. "I'm not really sure I ever made the decision to join the NMCDF. I just kinda got sucked into it. You know… One day I'm jamming out to some punk rock and then the next day I'm in Alcatraz. The NMCDF was the only way out for me. I have my regrets about joining, I have my disagreements with Prince, and I often question the exclusivity of the filthy fifteen, but at the end of the day I don't think I regret a thing."

"I think most NMCDF members can relate to that sentiment in some form or another. Oh look." Johnny turned his attention to the window. "It looks like it's almost time for us to land. We're making a connection so when we're off of the plane we have to extra careful."

Much of the time spent during their connection passed without event, but, an hour or so before their next flight was supposed to leave, Jello attempted to order a twenty piece chicken mcnugget from McDonalds, but he accidently gave them his personal credit card. As he handed his card to the cashier, he recognized his mistake, but it was already too late, the PMRC had been alerted to his location.

Instantly, all of the lights in airport turned red and loud sirens wailed from every conceivable direction. Secret passageways opened up in the floors and walls opened up, revealing hundreds, if not thousands of PMRC agents clad in riot gear began pouring forth into the corridors.

Jello and Johnny immediately regrouped as the agents closed in on them.

"What are we going to do?" Jello asked.

"We just have to fight them off!" Johnny replied.

At that moment, an agent came running towards the two, but before he could reach them, Johnny did his signature Rotten Roundhouse Kick, sending the agent flying backwards, knocking out other PMRC agents like bowling pins. Eventually, the agent crashed through the viewing window, giving the two a clear path to the runway.

"Now's our chance!" Johnny shouted.

The two made a mad dash towards the runway. Just as the two were about to leap down onto the concrete a member of the PMRC hoard latched onto Johnny's leg. Jello stared in horror as his friend slowly became consumed by the mass of PMRC agents.

"Run!" Johnny shouted, "Save yourself!"  
Jello clenched his fists. "No! I will not cower in fear to the PMRC!" He straightened his hands and committed several hundred supersonic jabs against dozens of opponents in mere seconds. A large circle of safety was spread around the two, giving them just enough time to escape. They ran to one of the many planes surrounding them, and resumed their flight to London.

It's not how they expected to be getting to London, but now Johnny Rotten and Jello Biafra are flying themselves to England. How will they land without encountering the PMRC in England? Who is heading the PMRC branch in England? How powerful are the foes they will face? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 6: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy 2**

Jello Biafra and Johnny Rotten were sitting peacefully in the cockpit of the plane they had just stolen, when their peace was interrupted by a mysterious noise in the back of the plane.

"There wasn't anyone on the plane when we stole it right?" Johnny asked.

Jello shrugged indignantly.

"Well you were supposed to check!"

"Ima be real wit you chief, even if this plane did have passengers on it we wouldn't have had enough time to steal another plane."

"I don't care!" Johnny snapped. "Just go back and make sure no one is back there!"

"Fine!" Jello got up and walked toward the passenger section of the plane. He agonizingly inspected each row. Eventually he reached the bathrooms in the back of the plane, and noticed that the doorknob was red and it read, 'occupied' on it. Jello jiggled the door a bit but it did not budge. He shrugged his shoulders and assumed that the door mechanism had broken somehow. He walked back to the cockpit and said to Johnny, "Nope I didn't see anyone back there."

"Ok good," Johnny replied, "We must have just hit some turbulence and something fell over."

"Yeah that's probably it," Jello said.

All was peaceful for awhile until they yet again heard some commotion in the back, this time it was much louder though.

"Are you sure you didn't see anyone in the back?" Johnny asked,

"I am one hundred percent certain that I saw no one."

"Well I'm gonna go back to check anyway."

They both stood up to check in the back. They opened the cockpit door, expecting to see nothing, but instead, they found themselves staring into the eyes of a mysterious shadowy figure. The two gasped simultaneously. Jello began to run toward the man in order to subdue him.

"Jello, wait!" Johnny Rotten shouted.

Jello stopped dead in his tracks. "What is it?"

"Look at that man."

Jello turned towards the mysterious figure and looked closely. He wore a standard issue PMRC uniform along with a makeshift turban constructed from toilet paper. "My god! Not only is he a PMRC agent, but he's a Muslim too!"

"That's right," Johnny replied, "That makes this situation very volatile and we need to think about this."

They began to think about it, but before they could do too much thinking, the PMRC agent shouted, "Aloha Snackbar," then pulled a saw out of his pocket and sawed the plane in half, sending our heroes plummeting out into the cold night sky.

"To be born again," sang Jello Biafra tumbling from the heavens, "First you have to die. To land upon the bosomy earth, first one needs to fly. How to ever smile again, if first you won't cry? How to win the darlings love, without a sigh? If you want to be born again, I tell you, you must die, I tell you, I tell you."

"To the devil with your poetry," supplied Johnny Rotten through the rushing wind. "We are but punk rock musicians, trying to make it in a world set against us."

"Oh Johnny boy, why must you be so cynical in our time of dying? We have now but to fall, what a joy!"

"We're going to die Jello! Are you not afraid!"

"What do I have to fear when death is certain?"

And then, as it finally began to sink that chances of them surviving was somewhere close to zero, a plane, this one not sawed in half, swooped beneath them, allowing them to land safely in its cockpit. The two were delirious for a few moments, they saw a face that they could have been happier to see.

"Salman Rushdie!" Johnny Rotten exclaimed.

"That's right," Salman replied.

"Who?" Jello asked.

"Allow me to introduce you," explained Johnny, "This is Salman Rushdie, leader of the England branch of the NMCDF."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Salman.

"The same to you," replied Jello, "But I have just one question, how did you know we would be here, and that we would need help?"

"We received word at HQ of your debacle at the airport, so I flew out here as quick as I could."

"Well we're certainly grateful," said Johnny.

Jello nodded in agreement.

The three flew for some time without interruption, before eventually reaching England. Salman knew where to land without being cornered by the PMRC, so they managed to land without incident, and had finally arrived safely in England. But for how long? What villainous schemes could possibly await them in this foreign land? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 7: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy 3**

We find our heroes, Johnny Rotten and Jello Biafra, sitting at a conference table at NMCDF headquarters in England. Across from them sits Salman Rushdie, head of this particular NMCDF branch. An air of awkwardness forms around them, since Jello is vying for the throne of satan, and Salman is a devout satanist. The air conditioning blew softly in the background, adding to the discomfort of the already cold, bunker-like facility.

Salman cleared his throat, breaking the deafening silence. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

"Alright," Johnny replied, "what's on the agendidydooda?" He turned towards Jello, who was clearly confused by what he had just heard. "Oh sorry Jello, you probably didn't understand that. I think you yanks would call an agendidydooda, an 'agenda.' Hah! What a silly word. Who calls an agendidydooda, an agenda? Silly yanks. Anyway, what's the agendidydooda, Salmany-Walmany?"

"Ok," replied Salman, "First up, this evening Johnny is having a live TV interview with the BBC. We've discussed the reasoning for the interview at length beforehand, so we won't discuss it at length here. As for you Jello, we have a very important mission waiting for you, so make sure you get all the rest you need. In the meantime, Johnny here has agreed to take you on a tour of London, you know, show you around, let you acclimate to your environment, that sort of thing. I'd take you myself, but sadly, a fatwa has been ordered for my head, so I won't be showing my face too publicly anytime soon."

And before Jello or Johnny could say a word, a teletube™ descended from the ceiling and sucked the two up. Seconds later, they apparated on the bustling streets of London. There was BBC propaganda lining every wall imaginable. It was all the same poster; A man sitting on a bench in a dark alleyway, with his head in his hands, crying. Rain clouds form above the crying man and the crying man alone as happy bystanders walk by in cloudless sunlight. It reads in a bold font, "DO YOU HAVE A TV LICENSE? IF YOU DON'T, THE BBC KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE AND WE'RE COMING TO YOUR HOUSE. YOU BETTER BUY A FUCKING TV LICENSE BITCH OR THE BBC WILL MAKE YOU. AND IF YOU THINK THAT THE POLICE IS MORE POWERFUL THAN THE BBC, YOU'RE DEAD WRONG, POLICE OFFICERS CAN'T EVEN CARRY WEAPONS. THE BBC IS MORE POWERFUL THAN THE POLICE BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH." The second thing Jello noticed was dozens of police officers in yellow vests. They seemed to be the definition of directionless as they stumbled aimlessly through the streets.

Jello leaned towards Johnny as he glared at the awful sight. "What's with all these police officers?" He spoke softly in a manner as though to imply that he felt at risk.

"Oh those." Johnny brushed the police officers off. "While it is true that everything in England is controlled by the PMRC, the police can't really do anything worthwhile. Occasionally the might ask you for a license, but that's the extent of their power."

At that moment Jello bumped into a police officer who turned and stared them dead in the eyes. The police officer's face was cold and pale, more resembling a skeleton that a living man. He stared at them a few awkward moments, then screamed, "OI YOU GOT A LOISENCE FOR THAT?"

"No," replied Johnny sternly.

"Well uh…" the officer replied. "If you uh… keep not have a loisence, I'm uh… going to have to resort to more extreme measures."

"And what would those be," Johnny retorted.

"Well uh… I'm going to have to politely ask you to purchase a loisence."

"Sure," Johnny said sarcastically, "I'll _totally_ do that."

The police officer got sad and walked away.

"That was amazing Johnny!" Jello praised, " You really know your way around this hellhole."

"Well, I was born and raised here." Johnny glanced down at his watch. "Oh no, would you look at the time! I need to get going to my interview!" He pressed a big red button on his watch. Two teletubes™ appeared beneath them and Jello was sent back to headquarters and Johnny was sent to the BBC.

From NMCDF HQ, Jello and Salman sit in anticipation as Johnny begins his interview.

"So why is punk rock so bad and dumb," the BBC interviewer asked.

"I think that's quite the loaded question," Johnny replied.

"Wow, I can't believe you would say something like that. That's so rude and disrespectful of you, like wow. I'm in shock. I thought that we would be able to sit down for a nice one on one conversation, you know, look past our differences, but no, you just had to go and ruin it with your false accusations. Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Any closing statements, you absolute monster of a human being?"

"Ok, well here's one," replied Johnny, "Why does the BBC continue to cover up accusations against Jimmy Sa…" The TV went to static. It came on for a few moments, but all that could be heard were the muffled cries of Johnny Rotten.

And now, with his friend in danger, what trials and tribulations will Jello Biafra encounter? What secrets are the BBC hiding? And what will become of Johnny Rotten? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 8: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy 4**

Jello Biafra and Salman Rushdie looked at each other with utter awe and horror.

"What happened to Johnny Rotten?" Jello asked, dumbfounded.

Salman placed his thumb and index finger across the bridge of his nose and looked down at the floor in shame. "I had a feeling something like this would happen."

"Something like what?" Jello questioned, perplexed.

"You don't understand the power that the BBC holds, do you?"

"I know that it's funded by the state but I don't see how that…"

"It's run by the state!" Salman interrupted. "Think about it! What is the queen of england's greatest weakness?"

"What?"

"Punk rock! The British monarchy is one of the PMRC's biggest supporters"

Jello slapped his face with both his hands and gasped audibly. "So that means…"

"Yes! Your friend, Johnny Rotten is currently under the thumb of the PMRC's greatest allies! And…" Salman assumed a somber tone. "I hate to be the one to have to tell you this… But you need to infiltrate BBC headquarters and rescue Johnny…"

"What?" Jello was taken aback. "Why me?"

"I know this may come as a surprise to you, but aside from Johnny, you're the most powerful agent the British NMCDF has."

"What about you," Jello asked, "I thought you were a legendary member of the NMCDF, one of it's greatest."

Salman sighed. "That was all in the past. I'm an old dog now. I can't see action as much as I used to." Jello looked down at the ground, deep in thought. Salman placed his hand on Jello's shoulder. "Listen, I know this is a lot for you to take in. The operation will start tomorrow morning. I'll give you until then to prepare yourself."

That night, Jello suffered from some sort of mental anguish and probably underwent some sort of deep philosophical transformation that we all don't really care about. What we do care about; however, is that by tomorrow morning Jello was ready to face the evil, cunning, deceptive, manipulative, expletive, daunting BBC.

The next morning Jello appeared in front of BBC HQ wearing an expert disguise. He walked inside without much trouble and walked up to the front desk, then said, "Hi, I'm uhh… here to repair your toilets?"

The receptionist browsed through a couple of documents on their desk, then replied, "We have nothing on our schedule about a plumber coming in."

"Well uhh… maybe the schedule was wrong?"

"Shoot you right. I'll let you back. Do you know where these broken toilets are?"

"Uhh… Yeah…" Jello replied.

The receptionist stood from their desk and began to walk to the back of the building. Jello followed the receptionist. Once they reached the door, the receptionist pulled out a keycard and unlocked the door. Jello stepped through the door. An ominous aura encroached upon him. Jello turned around to thank the receptionist, but before a word could leave his mouth, the door slammed shut behind him.

The hallways seemed to stretch infinitely in two direction. Not a single person could be seen wandering the cold desolate halls. Lights flickered on and off, and every door Jello tried seemed to be locked.

Jello determined his best course of action was to pick a direction and walk in it, though Jello did not know which direction he was walking, since the dark windowless hallways rendered any sense of direction absolutely worthless.

Just as the isolated darkness was about to drive Jello insane, Jello came across what appeared to be an elevator. Jello attempted to operate the elevator, but sadly he need a keycard in order to access it. Jello, defeated, began to walk away from the elevator, but at that exact moment, he heard a 'ding!' through the deafening silence, accompanied with the sound of elevator doors sliding open. Jello spun around quickly to see a man that seemed more dead than alive meandering out of the open elevator. Jello surveyed the area to make sure no one could see him, then he hit the man on the head with a plunger, knocking him out, if he wasn't knocked out already. Jello snatched up the man's keycard then ran onto the elevator.

The elevator was carpeted with a velvet red carpet, and every square inch of the elevator's walls were covered with buttons, each for an individual floor, because that's how epic the BBC was. Jello would have had trouble finding which floor was the highest, had it not been for a big red button labelled, "THE TOP FLOOR." Being the wise man that he is, Jello slammed his fist against the button for the top floor. The doors immediately slammed shut, and the elevator was thrust upward with such great force that Jello toppled to the floor. When the door opened the room was shrouded in darkness. A silhouette of a man was sitting at a ridiculously large desk.

The man turned around to face Jello. He snapped his fingers and the lights flashed on.

"I've been expecting you Jello," said the man.

A look of awe came over Jello's face. "Jimmy Savile!?"

"That's right Jello, who else did you expect? I own the BBC! I have them under my thumb! Despite all the crimes I've committed, the BBC still defends me! I am invincible!"

"What did you do with Johnny?" Jello questioned.

"Johnny is in my hands no longer," explained Jimmy, "If you want to get to Johnny you're going to have to take him from the Queen herself! But it's too late for that Jello. I have you in my grasp. The NMCDF is over." Jimmy proceeded to stand up and do a spinning jump toward Jello while doing a weird scream, kinda like that one that Emperor Palpatine did in Revenge of the Sith. (Kinda like this:  watch?v=QIYVMwi-cVE)

However, Before Jimmy could reach Jello, Jello grabbed Jimmy straight out of the air and swung him around like a lasso. Just as Jimmy reached the speed of sound, Jello released Jimmy, sending his flaccid body crashing through the window and sending him flying straight up to heaven.

As Jimmy crashed through the window, he cracked one last maniacal smile as alarms began to sound and the footsteps of PMRC agents began to echo through the hallways of the BBC headquarters. And now, with his friend still missing, what awaits our friend as he sits in the den of the lion? Find out tomorrow, on the 12 days of content edition of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 9: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy 5**

Here we find Jello, in the mouth of the lion. Vile PMRC footsteps resonate down the dank corridors of the BBC. It appears that Jello is in what would often be described as 'a pickle.' Jello paroused his escape options. He could jump out the window, but the ground was hard, and he wouldn't escape without losing his legs, if not his life, and seeing as Jello was not yet ready to become mayor of hell, this was not his best option. He also had available to him an elevator, but seeing as those could be easily locked down, and riding the elevator would require quite a bit of waiting, the elevator was not his best option. That left Jello with two identical hallways adjacent to Jimmy's office. Jello could pick either the left door or the right door, and of course Jello picked the left door, because the right is ruining our society.

This; however, proved ineffective, since the left door was a broom closet. Jello placed the plunger from his expert disguise inside the broom closet, in its rightful place. Jello returned to the right door, took a nervous breath, and swung the door open. A mass of PMRC agents roughly equivalent to the size of the red sea poured forth into the office. Jello took advantage of this opportunity and ran with such force that he ran straight up the wall. Once he was about three quarters of the way up the wall, he kicked off the wall and did a backflip into the crowd of PMRC agents then proceeded to crowd surf on top of all the PMRC agents. He crowd surfed all the down the stairs and onto the street outside the BBC headquarters where Jello used a teletube™ to swiftly return to NMCDF headquarters.

"So," Salman asked solemnly through the blinking lights and advanced tech of NMCDF HQ. "Did you find him?"

Jello looked down at the ground, distraught. "No, the Queen of England has Johnny."

Salman sighed heavily and placed his hands on his hips. "Well I can't say that I'm surprised. I don't know why I expected anything else from a corporation as heinous and evil as the BBC." Salman shook his head. "I didn't want this to have to happen, but it looks like you're going to Ireland."

"Ireland?" Jello asked. "What's in Ireland?"

"You'll find out once you get there."

"Am I going to have to get on a plane again?"

"No, the teletube™ system runs throughout all of Europe, so luckily you won't have to go through the hell of going to the airport again."

"That's fortunate."

"Yes. You'll travel by night. We've been getting some rumors that the PMRC has been hijacking our teletubes™."

That night, Jello passed through the teletubes™ without much trouble, and by the morning, Jello had arrived in NMCDF Ireland. Jello was greeted by someone who looked more like a goblin than a man.

Jello glared at him as one would a goblin. "Who are you?" Jello asked abrasively.

"I'm Shane MacGowan, you can call me Shane."

"So why was I sent here," Jello asked.

"Well," Shane explained, "We hear you need some help saving your friend from the Queen of England."

"I do," Jello replied, "How are you going to help me?"

"Well, we've recruited a republican army that is willing to help the NMCDF in their conquest against the PMRC."

"Republicans?" Jello exclaimed. "I don't like republicans!"

"Don't worry," Shane explained, "They're not like the American republicans."

"I'm still skeptical, but I'll trust you."

"Good, we've got a mass teletube™ all cleared out and the army is ready for transportation."

"Well let's get to it then."

The army began transport through the teletubes™ but for some reason, when Jello emerged from the outside of the teletubes™, he was inside a vast field of black. The only indication of the ground's existence was a green grid. The ground wasn't completely flat, but it did seem to go on forever.

Jello observed his surroundings. Next to him was Shane and the army was scattered out on the field. Jello shook Shane awake.

"Shane, Shane!" Shane opened his eyes but appeared to still be in a daze. "Where are we?"

Shane began to come to his senses and too observed his surroundings. "Oh no…"

"Where are we Shane!"

"We're in the digital world…"

"What?"

"The PMRC must have hijacked the teletube™ lines, and now they're planning on attacking us in the digital world."

"Well why would they do that? We can't die in the cyber world, can we?"

"Not necessarily, but the way teletubes™ work is that it uploads your genetic code and the contents of your brain to the cloud, and your body is destroyed. Then, at the destination, your DNA is used to reconstruct your body and then the contents of your brain is reuploaded to your new body. So basically, inside the digital world, you are already dead, but your body can be reconstructed and you can be brought back to life, but if the teletube™ lines are hijacked, and your data is destroyed before it can reach the destination, then your body cannot be reconstructed."

"So we'll be trapped in the digital world forever…" said Jello solemnly.

Shane nodded his head. Jello looked down at the ground, contemplating the potentially dangerous situation he was in. But Jello didn't have time to think, the footsteps of the redcoats could already be heard in the distance. Jello and Shane had to hurry up and wake up all of their soldiers!

And now with the song of war echoing throughout the digital world, what awaits Jello? Will he be able to make it out of the digital world and rescue his friend the hands of the Queen of England? Find out tomorrow on this very special 12 days of content edition on Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 10: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy 6: The Great Anglo-Irish Cyber Civil War Part 1**

On July 16, the Irish army under General Shane MacGowan marched south toward the English army under Brigadier General The Queen of England, drawn up behind Bull Run creek west of Centreville. The Queen of England's men defended the strategic railroad junction at Manassas, just west of the creek. On July 17th, MacGowan sent a small force across Bull Run at Blackburn's Ford to test the English defenses. A brief skirmish ensued, with light casualties and little result. MacGowan made plans to attack the north or left end of The Queen of England's line, while making a simultaneous demonstration where the Warrenton Turnpike crossed the creek at a stone bridge. Early on the 21st, two of MacGowan's divisions crossed at Sudley Ford and attacked the English left flank on Matthews Hill. Fighting raged throughout the morning as English forces were driven back to Henry Hill and more Irish brigades crossed Bull Run. In the afternoon, English reinforcements arrived via railroad from Gen. Johnston's army in the Shenandoah Valley, among them a brigade of Virginians under Gen. Andrew Jackson Jihad. Jackson organized a defense of Henry Hill bolstered by artillery. MacGowan also ordered more infantry and artillery to Henry Hill, where the fiercest fighting of the new war occurred. Additional English reinforcements broke the Irish right flank, and Jackson held his ground on Henry Hill "like a stone wall." Under counterattack and with no reinforcements, the Irish retreated, and, when pressed hard by the English, rapidly deteriorated into a complete rout. The next day, the shattered Irish army reached the safety of Washington and the first battle of the war was over. The emboldened English would fight on for nearly four more years. ( learn/civil-war/battles/bull-run)

After their devastating loss Jello Biafra and Shane MacGowan sat distraught in a tent at the Irish army's current encampment. "Jello," said Shane, "I hate to have to do this, since you're such a valuable part of this army, but…"

"But…?" Jello inquired.

"But… the real world needs you more." Shane explained. "We're going to sneak you out of cyberspace and back to the real world so that you can carry out your missions there. This wasn't my decision. I would have liked to have you here to help… but if there's no real world, there's no digital world either."

Jello sighed and looked down at the grass beneath his feet. "I suppose I must do what must be done. What is our plan for getting me out of here?"

"Well that's the tricky part." Shane pulled out a map of their environment. "Ok, so we're here, around Washington, north of the English, the issue is that the tele-exit leading back to England is just south of English territory, somewhere in Richmond."

"So… I have to cut right through English territory, all while not getting caught…"

"Yes. I know it might sound insane, but the real world needs you Jello, you have to believe in yourself."

Jello took a deep breath. "Ok. I know there will be a challenging road ahead, but I'm willing to fight for the forces of good and Punk Rock."

"I'm glad you came to that conclusion. You'll depart tonight."

Jello passed through English territory with much issue, and before even a single sentence of content could be written, he had arrived at the tele-exit.

_Getting here was pretty easy. _Jello thought to himself. _Too easy…_ Jello chalked it up to good luck, and entered the tele-exit. Jello once again found himself passing through the teletube™, but something odd happened. Where there was usually pitch-black, he saw shapes whirring next to him, when Jello focused on the strange shapes, he realized that they were… PMRC agents!

One agents attempted to punch Jello in the gut, but Jello rolled out of the way, then counter attacked with a kick to the chest. The PMRC agent was sent flying backward and collided with the invisible teletube™ walls, causing the agent to disintegrate and causing his mind and body data to be lost forever.

Three agents retaliated and flew at Jello, but Jello spun around with such intensity that they were flung into the teletube™ walls in a whirlwind of punches and kicks. Jello prayed that there souls would reach hell someday, even though that was unlikely, since all PMRC agents go to heaven.

Jello arrived back at the English PMRC headquarters where Salman was waiting for a report. "Well Jello," Salman asked, "What's the news?"

"Well," replied Jello forlornly, "Shane and the Irish army are stuck in cyberspace."

"Well it sounds like we are in, as the youth say, 'quite the pickle'."

"Yes I would say so."

"Well that means you can't save Johnny quite yet. In the meantime, we have a mission for you to take up in Greece."

"Wait, you mean to tell me we're just going to leave Johnny in the hands of the Queen of England?"

"It's the only thing we can do Jello," explained Salman.

"We can't just leave Johnny like this! Think of all the horrible things they could be doing to him!"

"Jello, I know you want to help your friend, but Shane has this under control! You need to let go for now! All will be alright."

"... fine."

And now, as Shane MacGowan and the Irish army are still trapped inside cyberspace, and Jello is forced to wait around as his friend suffers, what is in store for the future of these heroes? Find out tomorrow on this very special 12 days of content edition on Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 11: Jello Causes Greece to Collapse Into a State of Anarchy**

"So…" asked Jello, "What's my mission in Greece?"

"I sure am glad you asked that right at the moment the audience needed to be filled in on the plot," replied Salman. "You see, Greece, the most progressive country in the world, is finally on the brink of anarchy, and they need a brave leader like you to push them over the edge."

"But I thought the most basic principle of anarchy is that there are no leaders."

"Well, you wouldn't exactly be leading people towards anarchy per se, but there are some people who want to lead Greece towards peace, and we wouldn't want that."

Jello rubbed his chin. "That's true. So who will I be meeting up with in Greece?"

"No one."

"No one?" Jello stood confused. "How am I supposed to complete this mission then?"

"You're a crafty young lad," Salman explained, "You'll make due." Jello turned to a teletube™ to begin his mission. "Oh and Jello." Jello turned to face Salman once more. Salman pulled a large book out of his pocket. "You might find this helpful." Salman dropped the mammoth work of literature right on to Jello's feet, absolutely demolishing his toes in one crushing blow.

Jello tucked the book beneath his left arm and gave his mentor a goodbye solute. He entered the teletube™. _So the higher ups at the NMCDF finally trust me to make my own decisions? _Jello thought to himself, _It's about time._

Jello emerged in a city street in Athens where a riot was currently ongoing. Jello thought it a beautiful sight. The people of Greece held torches. Trash cans burned all around. The incoherent and constant shouting provided for a blissful white noise.

Jello looked at the book that Salman had given him. It was titled, "Greek Myths and Legends."

_How could this possibly help me? _Jello thought.

He flipped through the pages until he found a page on the beasts of Athens. Jello's keen eye was immediately drawn to something called, "The Benataur." The inscription read as follows; "The Benataur: This mythical beast is half women, half bull, and resides in the labyrinth somewhere in Athens."

Upon reading this, Jello turned to his left and asked one of the aggravated and violent protesters, "Excuse me good sir, do you know where the labyrinth is?"

The aggravated and violent protester immediately became completely calm, and said, "It's down the street and to the left."

"Thanks dawg." Jello said.

"Not a problem." The protester then returned to his violent and aggravated state.

Jello walked down the street and to the left, and lo and behold, there was the labyrinth. Jello entered the maze, being sure to keep careful note of every move he made, so as to not become lost. Jello had searched every corner of the labyrinth, but just as he was about to turn the corner to leave, he saw it- the benataur! The beasts glowing red eyes stared directly at Jello. It stamped its feet, and Jello fled the labyrinth, the benataur following close behind. Jello ran right up to a line of riot police and shouted, "Looks like it's finally bedtime for Democracy!"

"Heh," one of the policemen smirked, "Hit me with your best shot!"

At that moment the benataur appeared over the rise. Jello dodge rolled out of the way as the benataur stampeded through the police line. The protesters followed close behind the beast, setting more and more things on fire as they went.

Jello stood triumphantly as the crowd rode into the sunset. With his hands placed on his hips, Jello thought, _I've finally done it. Finally there's one good place in this world. Now we just need to show the rest of the world how great anarchy is!_

And now, with anarchy finally being established in Greece, what feats are in store for Jello's future? Will other countries finally turn against the PMRC and establish democracy? Find out tomorrow on this very special 12 days of content edition on Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 12: Jello Demolishes the Confederacy Part 1: Jello Gets a New Shirt**

We find Jello sitting triumphantly in NMCDF, still high off of his recent success in Greece, yet riddled with worry over his missing friend. Salman stepped into the room, wielding in his right arm a clipboard.

"Is there any news on the Irish's progress in cyberspace?" Jello asked hopefully.

"No," Salman replied, "They're making progress, but it's been slower than expected. Luckily for you, we have another solo mission for you to fulfill."

"And what would that be?"

"You're going to take down the confederacy!"

"I'm what?"

"I'm not saying it again."

"But I thought the confederacy was destroyed at the end of the civil war."

"That's where you're wrong kiddo. You see, the confederacy may have been officially ended in 1865, but it lives on in the hearts of the people.

"Hmm… So where do I start?"

"I'm glad you asked!" Salman explained, "There's going to be a protest in Charlottesville Virginia this weekend to protest the taking down of a statue of confederate leader Robert E. Lee. We're sending you in to take down what is left of the confederacy!"

"Fuck yeah!" Jello reached up and pressed a button on the teletube™ without further instruction, immediately sending him all the way to Charlottesville.

Jello popped out of a sewer on street that was packed with protesters wielding tiki torches. "Am I late to the luau?" Jello asked aloud.

A pale, morbidly obese man stomped over to Jello. The earth quaked with each step the man took. "Umm, actually…," said the man, "we're here to protest the destruction of HISTORY. A normie like you wouldn't understand." Sweat and grease poured forth from the man's forehead as though he had just stepped out of the shower. He wore socks with sandals, cargo shorts, and a t shirt with one of those animes on it. And of course, topping it all off, he wore a fedora, a hat so great, and so powerful, that even the crowns of the noblest kings of Europe couldn't stand against it.

"Umm…" Jello was taken aback.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY," the obese man shouted, covering Jello's face in a new layer of grease with each word he spoke, "YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYTHING SO WHY ARE YOU TALKING YOU NORMIE, YOU SOYBOY, CUCK. YOU'RE JUST A LIBTARD. YOU'RE JUST AN NPC! WHY DON'T YOU GO WATCH THE CLINTON NEWS NETWORK YOU NPC! REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

The other neckbeards heard their call, and so they came. They surrounded Jello until he could hardly breath. But then, some inbred dude shouted, "Hold on everyone! Look at his shirt! He's good!" Upon this statement, several 'yeehaws' were heard and the crowd quickly dissipated.

Jello looked at the shirts of one of the confederate's shirts. It had the confederate flag as the background, and in an intense font, the words 'rebel' were written. Jello looked down out his own shirt. It also had written on it the words 'rebel'. Jello fell to his knees and screamed, "NOOOOOOO!" Jello was so ashamed of his shirt that it immediately combusted into a smoldering pile of ash, leaving Jello to aimlessly wander the streets, shamed and shirtless.

During Jello's aimless wandering, he accidentally stepped into one of those really unsettling bootleg t-shirt places that sell apparel that would presumably appeal to literally no one. However; Jello saw one shirt that did appeal to him. It was a plain black shirt with the words 'What would Jesus do?' written on it in yellow text. Jello covered up the word 'Jesus' with tape, and on the tape wrote the word, 'Jello' so that the shirt now said, 'What would Jello do?' ( /product/jello-biafra-what-would-jello-do-unisex/) Jello returned triumphantly to the racist protest with a brand new image and a brand new sense of confidence.

And now, equipped with new wears, what awaits Jello in his mission to deal a finishing blow to confederacy, and finally end racism for good? Will Jello succeed? Or will he fail? Find out tomorrow on this very special 12 days of content edition on Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 13: Jello Demolishes the Confederacy Part 2: The Confederacy Finally Fucks Off**

Jello walked out of the t-shirt shop a new man. He returned to the location of the protest, where the neckbeard white supremacists were still wasting space and oxygen, as they tend to do. Jello analyzed the crowd so as to determine the best way of ending the confederacy. Then Jello saw it. On a stage, there were some rednecks with fiddles and banjos and shit, but one of the people on stage had a guitar.

Jello sprung into action. He leapt onto the stage and roundhouse kicked the guitarist off of the stage so hard that he crashed into the pavement and left a visible indent. Initially the crowd was unphased, since they thought Jello was wearing a 'What would Jesus do?' t-shirt. That is until Jello began to play his hit single, 'Nazi Punks Fuck Off'. ( watch?v=iyc62g7YQM0)

Upon hearing this song, one of the rednecks in the audience shouted, "Wait a minute, his shirt doesn't say, 'What would Jesus do', it says, 'What would Jello do'. He can't do that! He can't do that in our Christian nation! He can't take the lord's name in vain! Not in God's America!"

Upon realizes that Jello was not on their side, the racists in the audience began crying a collective, "Reeeeee!," and stormed the stage to attack their enemy, that being Jello.

When the racists stormed the stage, Jello leapt several stories into the air and grabbed onto the rafters that supported the stage lights. Jello felt a momentary sense of safety, however that was but a moment, for the racists began creating a human ladder, with each respective racist clambering their way to the top of the pile, scratching and clawing at one another like mindless zombies.

Just as the fingertips of the racists began to reach Jello's feet, he clambered at one of the stage lights, sending it crashing down onto the pile below. Jello took the opportunity to swing off of the rafters and away from the crowd. Jello landed some dozen yards away from the stage. His landed on his fists, sending out a shockwave that forced back any lingering racists in a radius of ten feet.

The mindless cloud of confederates instantly reacted to Jello's movement, and began chasing after Jello. They chased after Jello until they reached the Robert E. Lee statue that had been the cause of this entire protest. Jello sprung off of the ground, running atop the heads of the confederate crowd. He leapt off of the racists, sending himself flying towards Robert E. Lee himself. Jello weld his guitar as though it were a sword. When he neared Robert E. Lee, Jello swung his fiercely, knocking Robert E. Lee's head clean off.

Jello held his guitar triumphantly to the sky in front of Robert E. Lee's decapitated statue. "Your idol is fucking dead!" Jello screamed from the top of his lungs. "What are you going to do now you low-life racists!" Lightning shot out of Jello's guitar. It spun through the sky in a dazzling array of sparks and spirals before it returned to earth, arching right into the crowd of racists.

Finally the confederacy had been destroyed for good. Jello returned triumphantly to NMCDF headquarters America, where he went to Prince to brag about his exploits.

"Prince!" Jello said, "I've done it, I've destroyed the confederacy."

"That's great Jello!" Prince said, "But something very important has come up! The Irish army has almost finished fighting it's way out of cyberspace, and we know the location of Johnny Rotten."

Jello's expression was that of awe. "R… really? Is Johnny safe?"

"We can only hope!" Prince replied, "We need you to go on a stealth mission to rescue Johnny before the Irish army arrives. Jello. This may possibly be your most difficult mission yet? Will you choose to undertake it?"

Jello's adam's apple vibrated vigorously as he swallowed his pride. He clenched his sweaty fists as tightly as he could. "If it's for my friend, then I am willing to undertake this mission."

And now, with the confederacy demolished, and his most difficult mission ahead of him, what awaits Jello? Will he be able to save Johnny Rotten? Will he be able to show the world that punk rock fights for good and not evil? Find out tomorrow on this very special 12 days of content edition on Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 14: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy 7**

We find Jello sitting in NMCDF headquarters England, preparing himself both physically and mentally to rescue his friend, Johnny Rotten, from the vile grasps of the British monarchy. Jello took one final breath before plunging into the abyss. He pressed a button and a teletube™ absorbed him. When Jello emerged from cyberspace, he stood in front of an ornate, over-designed palace. It was the disgusting image of royalty that soccer moms all around the world had come to know and love.

To guards stood silently in front of the palace gates. Their red coats were so bright that it felt as though both of your eyes were being stabbed with freshly sharpened knives. Their bearskin hats highlighted the disgusting nature of human involvement in animal extinction. The muskets tucked beneath their right arms symbolized the British monarchy's war-mongering nature. Everything about it - the guards designed to evoke fear, the palace which showed off how much of a waste of money the monarchy is, the gate separating royalty from common man - it all seemed to be designed to bring about anger.

It was difficult for Jello to not attack the guards immediately, but if he did, it would set off the alarm in the guard's heads, you see the guards at British palaces are technically people, but they have been brainwashed, and installed with advanced electronics, so, unless they are activated directly, they will not attack.

So Jello ignored his violent urges, and instead opted to climb over the gate. You might think that this would activate the guards, but the guards are in fact so robotic, and so brainwashed, that the meager intelligence given to them by the monarchy allows them to only looked directly forward.

So Jello was in. He noticed a guard walk around the corner, so he dodge-rolled into a bush. Some say Jello missed that guard's line of sight by mere millimeter. Jello sat silently in the bush, waiting for the guard to pass.

After the mindless robot had passed by, Jello tiptoed through an elaborate garden before climbing inside an open window. The scene was indescribable. Everything in the room the room was made of solid gold. And I mean _everything_. The walls, the floors, the carpets, the chairs, the televisions. The gold was in such abundance, and so shiny, that Jello was almost instantly blinded. This was bad news for Jello. If Jello couldn't see, then he could potentially walk right into the path of a guard. Jello ducked beneath a chair and squinted his eyes until they had adjusted.

Once Jello's vision had finally adjusted, he saw some two inches in front of him a pair of legs. He looked up, and standing right in front of him was a guard. Jello immediately curled up into a ball in anticipation of being attacked. But then, miraculously, the guard walked away. Then Jello realized that since the guards vision was so narrow, he couldn't be seen if he was on the floor. Jello breathed a sigh of relief and continued his way through the palace.

Jello made his way through the palace without much issue, and after awhile, he neared the scene of Johnny Rotten's incarceration, he could feel it. Jello walked passed a room and he heard some people talking, which was odd, since most people in the palace didn't have the capacity to think, let alone talk. Jello listened in on the conversation.

Much to Jello's surprise, this conversation was being had between the queen of England and… Tipper Gore!

"I like, totally can't believe that these punk rock people, are like totally mean!" The queen of England whined in an immature manner. "Like it's totally making it difficult to like take over the world like omg."

"I know that there's a challenging road ahead," Tipper assured, "But once the Irish escape from cyberspace, we'll be waiting there to intercept them, and then they'll defeat for good."

Muffled screams were heard in the background. "Omg," the queen of England shouted, "just shut up, you're like, so totally gross!"

Those screams were coming from… Johnny! It was now or never. Johnny burst into the room and did a sweeping spin kick that knocked both Tipper Gore and the queen of England to the floor. Jello swung a tied up Johnny Rotten over his shoulder and fled the scene. Escape was easy, because if the guards were activated, the two would be chased into the streets by the guards, and the corruption of the British monarchy would be exposed.

At least for now, Johnny was safe, but the final battle was approaching. Will Jello be able to expose the evils of the British monarchy? Will the British people finally reject their fascist ruler? And will England finally become a safe place for punk rock? Find out tomorrow in the stunning finale to Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy!

**Chapter 15: Jello Tears Down the British Monarchy 8**

Jello and Johnny sat patiently and quietly in the NMCDF conference, awaiting more orders as well as the arrival of the Irish army. But patience was wearing thin, and Jello was slowly losing his mind over the possibilities that were contained within the inevitable final battle between punk rock and the British monarchy.

Then, as tensions were soon to boil over, Salman stepped into the room. "Hello my friends," said Salman, "We are on the threshold of our final and greatest battle." He surveyed the room. "Are you prepared for your orders?"

"Yeah, sure," said Johnny in a strangely aloof and out-of-character moment.

Jello shook violently with anxiety. He sweated so profusely that one might have thought he had just been through a hurricane. Jello wiped the sweat from his brow. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Salman sighed. "Don't worry. Your mission will not be so difficult, but it is so very important." Salman turned to Johnny. "Johnny, I believe that you are already filled in on all the details."

Johnny rolled his eyes. "Yeah…"

Salman lifted his hands in the air defensively and took a few steps backward. "Ok ok. I would appreciate it if you would fill Jello in on the details."

"Yeah alright, let's get on with it then." Johnny pressed a button on the desk and two teletubes™ descended from the ceiling, absorbing both Jello and Johnny before Jello could ask even a single question. The two emerged on the zombie-filled streets of London.

"So what's the plan…?" Jello asked.

"Just follow me," replied Johnny.

"O...Ok?"

They wandered the desolate streets of London before they eventually reached a dock.

"What are we doing here?" Jello asked.

Johnny turned to face Jello. "We're going for a ride!" Johnny turned once again and began to walk toward the boat.

"Wait!" Jello grabbed Johnny's shoulder. "What for?"

"Well don't you know?" Johnny explained. "Tonight's the night of the Queen of England's silver jubilee, and we're going to ruin that prissy Queen's special night!"

"Aren't you nervous?" Jello asked.

"Of course I am! But I'm not gonna let that stop me." Johnny stepped on to the boat, and Jello followed closely behind.

The dust seemed settled, for now. But something was stirring, far off in the distance. As the sun set of the River Thames, something was going on, you could just feel it. The boar set out, and already police boats were circling all around.

A single firework from the Queen's celebration was seen in the distance, and Johnny took it as a signal to get started. One of the police officers in the boats realized what they were trying to pull, and he attempted to leap onto the boat, but Jello pulled off a guitar riff that was so rockin' that the police officer was blown several hundred yards back onto the shore of the Thames.

A big smile came across Johnny's face as he jumped into the lyrics. Words of, "God save the queen! Her fascist regime!" echoed throughout all of England.

They finished the song, and as they returned to shore, hundreds upon thousands of British police officers were waiting for them. But it was too late for the archaic and flawed British monarchy, they had already been defeated. Johnny Rotten's song had been broadcast throughout England, and the British people had turned on their supposedly benevolent dictator, and without direction or leadership, the British officers stood dormant on the docks of the river Thames.

Johnny and Jello returned to the palace, where they found Shane MacGowan and the Irish army burning it to the ground. Millions of delighted and enlightened English people gathered around the burning structure to celebrate it's toppling. Finally, the English people could truly be free. Fireworks were set off, not in celebration of a fascist dictator, but in celebration of freedom.

But, barely visible in the sky, we see a helicopter zooming into the distance. Who could be held within it? Who knows? Who cares? You probably won't find out anytime soon, but if you keep reading you may eventually! Keep reading tomorrow, with yet another stunning release of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 16: Jello Gets Lucky**

It seemed that the world of punk rock had entered the age of evening calm. You know, one of those peaceful lulls that always seems to inevitably follow after some chaotic and eventful period. It's nice. It's relaxing. But it's oddly uneasing. It's like shellshock for relaxation; it's been so long since you've relaxed, that just relaxing feels out of the ordinary.

Jello walked slowly down the street. Like a knight returning from battle, he had his guitar slung over his back like a sword. Once again, Jello had failed to be fairly financially compensated for his hard work, but then again Jello was not one to be so swayed by the scam that is capitalism. Jello huffed and puffed as he walk up Lombard Street back to his apartment. It would at least have been nice if he had enough money for dinner though.

The Jello got lucky. Sitting perfectly still on the ground right in front of our titular protagonist was a crisp Lincoln staring him directly in the eye. That's right, you heard me correctly, a whole five dollars!

Jello held the bill up to the sun. "God bless America," he said audibly as he confirmed that it was, in fact, a real five dollar bill. Jello attempted to place the five dollars in his pocket, but his pocket caught on fire and the bill fell out. Jello quickly scooped it up before anyone else could discover this treasure and looked at his finding once more, this time considering how he should spend it.

Jello's stomach growled, and his vision grew foggy due to starvation. So Jello decided to buy some new records.

Jello stepped into the record store with his eyes closed and took a big whiff of the beautiful scent of musty old records. Jello opened his eyes. Records lined every nook and cranny. Some of them good, some of them absolutely awful, and some of them mediocre. Either way, those records had a place in Jello's collection. Presuming that Jello spent approximately 20 cents for each record, he could potentially squeeze 25 records out of this five dollars.

Jello immediately began sifting through records in the bargain bin. But, much to Jello's dismay, the only records in the bargain bin were absolute fucking garbage. In a fit of rage, Jello threw the box of records on the floor. But Jello had made a mistake. Hidden between the discs of utter garbage, there was a single album by Hawkwind. Jello sunk dramatically to the floor, and clutched the album desperately. In Jello's fit of rage, the album was rendered completely unlistenable, but that was listenable enough for Jello!

Jello turned to the cashier who was now looming angrily above. "Hello good sir, I would like to purchase this fine record of yours."

"I don't suppose you also intend to pay for all the other records you just threw on the floor?" The cashier placed his hands on his hips.

"What do you mean?" Jello asked.

"You break it, you buy it!"

Jello scowled. "You have no right to talk to me like that you capitalist swine!" Jello pulled a lighter and his five dollar bill out of his pocket and laughed as he lit the money on fire. Jello ran out of the store laughing, his Hawkwind album tucked neatly beneath his left arm.

Jello went to sleep in his racecar bed that night content with his recent finding. He still had had nothing to eat that day, but you know, Jello cares about what's important.

And now, with our hero deeply engrossed in boredom, what awaits Jello in the future? Will something actually happen? Find out tomorrow on this very special 12 days of content edition on Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption Christmas Special Part 1: The Truth About Santa Claus**

Jello sat peacefully in his San Francisco apartment, hoping that his landlord would forget to collect on his long overdue rent again, but alas, that fateful knock came on his door. When Jello heard the knock, he quickly fumbled to turn off his record player, but instead dropped it an album his big toe, leading to him squealing in pain, and causing him to fall over in a series hilarious slapstick events that I don't care to recall but am sure would have made everyone laugh and slap their collective knees.

"I know you're in there Jello!" Shouted the landlord, "If you don't open up I'm coming in!" The landlord waited outside for his unseemly patron. Jello stumbled to stand up, but not quickly enough. An audible and obnoxious sigh was heard from outside the door as it slowly creaked open. "Jello what are you…" The landlord was caught off guard when he saw Jello failing to stand in a variety of equally hilarious slapstick comedy events that were sure to evoke the laughter of dozens of pre-recorded audience members. "Jello!" The landlord raised his hands in the air in a motion that evoked the same energy as a New Yorker saying 'I'm walking here.' "What are you doing? You better get your act together young man!"

Jello stood up quickly, with a goofy, yet serious expression. "Why's that?"

"I'm doubling the rent 'cuz the buildings condemned! You're gonna help me buy city hall."

"Why are you doing that!"

"Cuz I can!" The landlord laughed maniacally and threw the peel of the banana he was apparently eating this whole time on the floor and walked out the door.

"Landlords!" ( watch?v=_7OzzMPQgAM) Jello shrugged violently as the door slammed shut. Jello took a step and immediately slipped on the banana peel, landing flat on his back.

Jello passed out, and when he awoke, he found himself lying down in a hospital. The constant beep of the heart monitor was almost more annoying that the constant laugh track that seemed to follow Jello wherever he went. But of all the annoying sounds in the hospital, one topped them all. It was… a television. Jello didn't own a television because of his eternal mission to not hate the media, but become the media. But what was on the television was an evil Jello could not have predicted. Not only was it a television, but it was changed to Fox News, and worst of all… they were talking about Jello's least favorite holiday… Christmas! How despicable! How scandalous! How… traditionalist.

Jello fumed with rage. He was ready to throw whatever object might cause damage at the television, but just as he was about to, he heard of another medium through which to vent his anger. He heard Megyn Kelly, renowned Fox News host, say the words, "And by the way for all you kids watching at home, Santa just is white." ( watch?v=28LKckSSgmE)

Jello, in that fateful moment, forged a brilliant plan, that would outclass the minds of both Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking alike. Jello was going to go to the north pole, and prove that Santa was not, in fact, white, as Fox News has claimed on many occasions. With this epiphany, Jello was instantly cured of his numerous spinal cord injuries, and began his trip to the north pole.

Jello faced many trials and tribulations that I don't particularly care about, but just know that Jello did, after some time, reach Santa's workshop on the north pole. What Jello found was an awful sight. Insensitive imagery hung on every square inch of wall. The elves… were indescribable. Just think oompa loompas, but even more racist. Yeah it was bad.

It was so bad that Jello marched right into Santa's office. "Santa! What is the meaning of this?"

"Oh Jello, you've been a very naughty boy this year, I'm sorry, but all you'll be getting in your stocking is coal! Ho ho ho!" Santa Claus turned around ominously. To Jello's surprise, all that remained of Santa's iconic gray beard was a deeply insensitive Hitler stache.

"Shove it Racist Claus! You can't be the real Santa! Santa cares about all the children in the world!"

"Ho ho ho!" Santa laughed maniacally. "That's where you're mistaken Jello! Why do you think starving African children never get any presents?"

"Oh my god… Santa is a… is a…" Jello struggled to allow the words to escape his mouth. "Santa is a white supremacist!"

"Ho ho ho! That's right Jello! And now that you've exposed yourself as a fucking liberal I'm going to have to kill you! Ho ho ho!" Santa picked Jello up and threw him so hard that he flew all the way back to San Francisco, crashing into and subsequently turning his former apartment building to rubble. The laugh track droned on at Jello's clumsy yet hilarious slapstick antics.

And now, with Jello being sent back to square one and mysteries unfolding all around him, will Jello be able to accomplish whatever his goal might be? Will Fox news stop saying stupid things? Find out in the next Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption Christmas Special!

**JBVFC Christmas Special Part 2: Jello Amasses an Army to Invade the North Pole**

Jello stood in the rubble of what used to be his home. He would have been shocked at having his home destroyed, but most of the stuff in there he got for cheap, and his landlord was a dick anyway, so it didn't bother him much. Oh yeah, also Santa Claus is a fucking racist so that was also a little bit more concerning. Jello simply had no idea where to turn for help, I mean, who could possibly believe him?

The first place Jello tried was at a PMRC. After listening to the members of the filthy fifteen ramble on about worthless money issues, Jello finally had his chance to speak. "Guys, I know you think money is important, but I have something much more important than any of that bullshit."

"Well get on with it then, we're busy balancing our checkbooks." Prince said, or at least that's probably what he said, but then again, anything having to do with money just sounds like nonsense to Jello.

"Ok," Jello thought for a few moments, "Hear me out here. Santa… is a white supremacist, and we need to stop him."

The filthy fifteen stared at Jello like he was the biggest idiot west of the mississippi. "Jello," Prince said, "You have to be one of the stupidest people this side of the mississippi."

"Ok, so you won't support my plans, fine!" Jello scoffed. "If I'm the dumbest person west of the mississippi, then I just have to go east of the mississippi!"

"Oh?" Prince questioned condescendingly. "Where to?"

"I'll go to Manchester!" Jello explained.

"Heh, what's in Manchester?"

"The Buzzcocks!"

"Oh!" Prince rolled his eyes. "Those startup hacks! Good luck going anywhere with those losers! And good luck getting all the way to England without NMCDF support!"

"You fool! After the great anglo-irish cyber civil war, the teletube™ system was upgraded, so now I can transport all the way to England without going to the airport!"

"Fuck," Prince replied calmly.

A gentle whirring was heard as a teletube slowly descended from the ceiling. "Later!" Jello shouted. He reached up to the teletube and pressed a button on it. He was instantly sucked up a transported to Manchester England, a place sparsely populated by the PMRC, for you see, most of England's punk rock activity resided in London, though there were a few fringe groups battling it out in this unknown frontier, the most prominent of which was the Buzzcocks. The Buzzcocks weren't associated with the NMCDF or any of that jazz, there self-made superheroes, vigilantes of the wasteland left behind by the PMRC.

Jello walked up to the front door of the Buzzcocks headquarters and knocked. Pete Shelley opened the door and welcomed Jello with open arms, "Jello! How are you doing old pal!"

"It's great to see you, but…" Jello sighed. "I bring bad news."

"What's happened?"

"Well Pete… I don't know how to break this to you, but I just found out that Santa is a white supremacist."

"Oh no!" Pete threw his arms in the air in frustration. "Are you going to get help from your buddies over at the NMCDF?"

"Well… that's the thing. The NMCDF doesn't believe me…"

"Ohhhh! So when the NMCDF turns it's back on you, you come crawling back to the Buzzcocks, is that it?"

"Pete… please! I need your help to stop Santa and his racism once and for all."

Pete thought for a few moments. "Fine, I'll help you this one time, because this is so important, but don't expect any favors from me in the future."

Jello managed to crack a smile. "Thank you."

And now, as Jello forms a shaky partnership with the Buzzcocks, will Santa be defeated? Will the evils of Christmas finally be abated? Find out in the next Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption Christmas Special!

**JBVFC Christmas Special Part 3: Jello Kills Santa and Ends Racism**

We find Jello sitting awkwardly in the living room of the Buzzcocks headquarters. The weight of Jello's wrongdoing weighs upon him like the weight of a metric ton of feathers.

"So…" Jello said. "How about this weather we're having."

One of the members coughed. "It's alright i guess."

That sat in an awkward silence for several moments until Pete walked into the room carrying a platter of tea on the coffee table. Jello picked up a glass of tea and began to sip it.

"Well I suppose now is a good time to begin your special training to defeat Santa," said Pete. Pete proceeded to kick Jello square in the nads.

"Owie," Jello said calmly as he fell to the floor and writhed in pain. "What's the big idea!?"

"How do you feel right now," Pete asked.

"It hurts you whore!"

Pete laughed maniacally. "Would you say that your cock is buzzing right now?"

Jello's pain instantly went away upon hearing that brilliant pun. "Yes, I would in fact say that my cock was buzzing."

Pete smirked. "Now try it on me!"

"I'd be glad too!" Jello achieved a fighting stance, then proceeded to roundhouse kicked Pete right in his balls. As Jello's foot connected, the clanking of metal was heard and Jello was launched backwards from the force of his kick, but Pete, on the other hand, was left completely unscathed. Jello looked on with an expression of pure terror.

Pete loomed menacingly above. "These are the skills you must master if you wish to defeat santa! Jello! Old friend! Are you ready to master these skills?"

Jello managed to force a nod through his shock and awe.

Pete smiled and extended a hand out to his fallen friend. "Let's go kill santa."

Then there was a training montage 'n shit, and then Jello and the Buzzcocks ended up at the North Pole. But… awaiting them at the North Pole was an army of culturally insensitive elves!

"Oh god!" Jello screamed. "My eyes! They're burning!"

"Jello," screamed Pete as steam poured forth from his scalding eyes. "I know seeing racism makes your eyes burn! But you have to fight through the pain! Think of all the good you can do!"

Jello paused he took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes. As his eyes burned, he ran screaming into the battlefield. He kicked every elf he saw right in the nuts. The cocks of his enemies _were _buzzing.

But then, a series of red lights appeared on the snow beneath them. The whir of machinery was heard as a hidden door opened on the side of Santa's headquarters. And lo and behold, there was Santa! He had several miserable looking reindeer chained abusively to his sleigh. Santa whipped them ferociously, and the begin to move down the runway in an attempt to stop the suffering. "Ho ho ho niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas!"

"SANTA!" Jello was infuriated! "YOU CAN'T SAY THAT! THAT'S RACIIIIIIIIIIIIIIST!" Just as Santa was about to lift off, Jello leapt beneath the sled and held on to the treads beneath for dear life. Jello climbed on top of the sled. They were now tens of thousands of feet in the air. Santa attempted to knock Jello off the sled, but he missed. Jello got into a stance to use his newly learned attack. Jello attempted to kick Santa in the balls… but he bounced right off!

"Ho ho ho!" Santa laughed. "Jello you troglodyte! You can't hurt me! I'm too fucking fat!"

Jello was lost. Lost in thought. Ten thousand feet in the air. With a racist incarnation of Santa. But then Jello got an idea. He widened his eyes and pointed them directly at Santa.

"Jello you fool! Your vacant stares have no effect on me!" A subtle sizzling sound was heard. "What? What's that noise?"

Jello lifted his hands to the air as bloody tears of joy streamed from his singed eyes. "ANTI-RACISMMMMMM BEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAM!" Flames began pouring forth from his eyes, setting Santa ablaze. Santa's fat acted as a fuel, and so Santa burned and burned and burned. At some point during Santa's much deserved suffering, he stumbled backward and fell off of the sleigh, plummeting to the earth like a rock.

Jello sat quietly in the sleigh, until an african american man popped out of one of the presents. "Who are you?" Jello asked.

"Me?" said the man. "I am D.H. Peligro, but most people know me as the real Santa Claus."

"Thank goodness the real santa isn't white!" Jello exclaimed.

The two laughed for some reason as they rode back to San Francisco. When the sleigh landed, none other than CNN's Wolf Blitzer was waiting there to interview him on this quaint, snowy christmas eve's night. "Jello, is it true that Santa was actually a white supremacist and you fucking killed him?"

"No," Jello replied, "That Santa was an imposter, the real Santa is right here, and thankfully, he's not white."

"Wow." Wolf Blitzer turned to face the camera. "There you have it folks. Fox News will never be able to recover from this."

And now, what awaits Jello as he makes his first success separate from the NMCDF? Will the NMCDF welcome Jello back with open arms, or will they expunge him like a cancer? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 20: Jello Runs for President Part 1**

Jello slept peacefully in his San Francisco apartment. An apartment that he now got for free because he sued his landlord for nearly breaking his back. It's not like Jello was paying for the apartment anyway though, because Jello isn't a slave to capitalism. Jello was having a delightful dream about being a racecar driver, because well, what else are you supposed to dream about in a racecar bed? Suddenly, Prince, critically-acclaimed american musician and head of the filthy fifteen apparated from nothingness inside of Jello's bedroom.

"Jello!" Prince's voice boomed. Jello awoke, hazy eyed and drowsy, but awake nonetheless. "Why did you go off and complete that mission even if we told you not to?"

An inflammatory look came across Jello's face. "_Well,_" Jello said. "I didn't realized I belonged to you and the filthy fifteen."

Prince sighed. "That's not what I said Jello."

"Well what were you trying to say then?"

"I just thought that the mission would be too dangerous for you. I was worried for you."

"Well you were wrong, so why can't you admit that?"

"I don't think I was wrong for worrying about you." Prince assumed the least aggressive tone that he could. "Jello, you're the greatest hope this organization has at taking down the PMRC. We can't risk any chance of losing you."

"Oh so that's what I am to you? A figurehead? A pawn in your game of three dimensional chess?"

"Jello…"

"Whatever! Just give me my next mission."

"Fine," Prince replied calmly, "for your next mission you'll be running for president."

"What?" Jello was surprised. "Already? I thought that mission was to be delayed for quite some time."

"It was," Prince explained, "But your recent exploits in the north pole have escalated your public image to new highs. We need to exploits your newfound popularity while we still can."

"Heh. That's funny. Just a minute ago you were scolding me for going to the north pole, but it seems to be for the best. How does it feel to be wrong Prince? Anyway, is there any paperwork this time? That turned out to be quite the process when I ran for mayor."

"Nope, luckily for you all the paperwork has been worked out in advance. All there is to do for you is get out on the campaign trail and appeal to the people of america."

"That's relieving."

"Yeah… There's just one thing."

"What's that?" Jello asked.

"Well…" Prince replied, "I know you're not going to like this, but we have to ask you to be a little bit less… derogatory."

"So let me get this straight… You're asking _me_ to censor myself."

"...yes."

Jello laughed. "You must be going insane! Are you sure your head is in the right place? You sound more like the PMRC right now than the NMCDF!"

"I know that's hard for you to do, but if we want to win this election you're going to have to try."

A serious look came across Jello's face. He gulped nervously. "You're serious aren't you?"

Prince nodded.

Jello gazed wistfully into the distance. "Ok. I'll do it. If it's for the sake of defeating the PMRC I'll do it."

Prince sighed with relief. "I'm glad that's the decision you made."

"Yeah, when's my first campaign speech?"

"Tomorrow." Prince explained, "It shouldn't be too bad since it's taking place right here in San Francisco."

"That's good." Jello replied, "I'll give it a shot as best I can. Who will I be running against anyway?"

"That's the thing… You'll be running against George W. Bush."

"Oh great," Jello said sardonically, "That's just what we need! Another Bush in office!"

"That's not all," Prince explained, "You'll also be running against… Al Gore!"

"No…" Jello was awestruck. "You don't mean…"

"Oh I know what I said."

"Tipper Gore's husband!"

"Yes Jello," said Prince, "That is why it is so imperative that you run for office now. Your lucky you went to the north pole when you did, otherwise Al Gore would have won for sure. But now, I think you may have a chance at defeating him. You just need to censor yourself a little bit."

"If Al Gore gets in office, it will mean that Tipper Gore and the Parents Music Resource Center have direct access to the US military. Which will mean censorship forever. If I have to censor myself just for the campaign trail in order to end censorship for good, then I would be more than willing to censor myself."

Jello sits tentatively at the head of the campaign trail. Jello can see the walls in the distance begin to close in. But Jello still has enough time to escape their grasp. What will Jello encounter on the brutal campaign trail. What horrific enemies will Jello be forced to face? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 21: Jello Runs for President Part 2**

We left Jello in a state of anticipation, desperately trying to avoid the fact that in a few mere hours, he would have to censor himself, and attempt to not be too inflammatory. But now those hours have passed, and now we find Jello on the brink of an anxiety attack, backstage of his first campaign rally. Luckily for Jello, this rally is taking place in San Francisco, the land of his people.

But soon would the day of Jello's reaping come. A man in casual jeans and t shirt as black as the robes of death himself appeared. The clipboard in the man's hands seemed as though it listed all those who were marked for a boat ride down the river styx.

The man tapped his watch casually. "You're on in five minutes."

Jello quivered with fear. Each minute felt like a day. And after roughly a week of awaiting his demise, Jello took one last breath, and stepped into the abyss.

The stage wasn't as bad as Jello had assumed. He had thought the expectant eyes of the people would force him into saying something that wasn't completely idiotic and conforming, but luckily for Jello, the stage lights were so bright that he could hardly see any of the audience members.

Jello breathed a sigh of relief and glanced over his script. He needed a script because it was literally impossible for anyone to think up something so idiotic that it would please everyone. But when Jello even just looked at the script, he began to feel the ten piece chicken mcnugget meal he had just consumed begin to force its way out his esophagus. In other words, he was about to spew digested toxic McDonald's sludge all over his potential voters. Not a good scene. Not a good scene at all.

Jello went right into the script to forget the horrible sight he had just scene. "M… my fellow americans…" The pain on Jello's face was blatant and excruciating. "I… have come here today to tell you why I am the most qualified for the office of president of this g… great country. First of all, I would like to say that I am a… a… a…" Jello's breathing grew heavier with each 'a…' he spoke. The word written next on his script was simply too stupid for Jello to handle. He attempted to read the script again. But he failed. He fell to his hands and knees, hyperventilating. But still Jello tried. "P… p…" Woah! There goes those chicken mcnuggets! Once all of the toxic waste had been purged from his body, the word finally escaped Jello's mouth. "Patriot."

An audible and simultaneous gasp could be heard from the audience. The audience, clearly unsettled by Jello's sudden change of direction, began to whisper back and forth to one another. "Jello," one person shouted, "This isn't like you!"

"I've…" Jello quaked like a man in a fever dream. "I've got to appeal to the American people…"

Another audience member stood up. "But Jello the hardworking average American is a farce! A lie perpetuated by big businesses to control the minds of the people."

But the wise words of the people failed to reach Jello's corrupted mind. He stood back at the podium and completed his vile speech. "In conclusion… G… God bless America!" Jello stumbled off the stage.

One person, presumable a PMRC spy, clapped for Jello. The rest of them just booed. Which they had every right to do, because that speech was fucking terrible.

When Jello finally made his way off the stage, Prince was there waiting for him. "Good job," Prince said. "You did better than I thought. You're one step closer to appealing to the American people!"

"Yeah." Jello coughed a sickly and pained cough. "Whatever."

Later that night, as Jello lay recovering from his recent run in with death, he turned on the tv to see none other than CNN's own ever-exciting and always entertaining Wolf Blitzer. Beneath his perfect face that was just made for television was a headline that read, "Damn, Jello fucking sucks now."

Jello flipped that channel once again, this time to Fox News, where footage of Al Gore's campaign rally was being shown, and who would come up to the podium other than Tipper Gore.

"Jello Biafra is a fucking disgrace to our society." Tipper went on, "I fucking hate that little bitch. Clap if you want to get up on stage and suck the cocks of the PMRC!"

The crowd went into a unanimous and thunderous applause.

And now, as Jello is in his lowest point, and he questions his motives for even being a punk rock musician, what awaits him in his future. Will trying to appeal to the average American really be an effective campaign strategy? Will Jello finally realize that he shouldn't eat McDonalds before a campaign rally? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 22: Jello Runs for President Part 3**

And now, we return to our hero, Jello Biafra. So pained and sorrowful is he! But for now, let us forget that, and to look back upon we asked ourselves last time; Will Jello finally realize that he shouldn't eat McDonalds before a campaign rally!? And the answer, dear readers, to that question which we have all surely been stewing over every hour of every day is no. No! Jello did _not_ stop eating McDonalds before his campaign rallies! Jello you fool! How could you! Don't you realize how much sodium is in a ten piece chicken mcnugget meal from McDonalds! A big mac has 26 grams of fat, and a quarter pounder has 28 grams of fat! I know it tastes good, but you have to stop yourself! Do not give in to the subtly sweet and salty sensation that is a ten piece chicken mcnugget meal. Don't even get me started with McDonalds ketchup, like goddamn, how do they even make that shit taste so good? But what is the most surprising of all about your recent McDonalds binge, is the fact that McDonalds is a multimillion dollar organization. If you were going to slowly gorge yourself to death, you would at least do it while supporting a local business! Truly and honestly, what has gotten into you Jello Biafra? What have Prince and the other members of the filthy fifteen done to you to force you to resort to such capitalistic tendencies!

Anyway, what were those other hypothetical questions I asked last chapter? Oh yes, something about his presidential campaign. Alright, well that went something like this:

Jello continued through much of his campaign in the same manner as his first campaign rally, that is slowly and painfully. Prince continued his brainwashing regiment against Jello with much success. Jello was slowly but surely turning into a good ol' all-American boy, just like the PMRC wanted him to. It was, to put it lightly, absolutely horrid and disgusting.

It was the night of Jello's last campaign rally, and all through America, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The fans of Jello's that still remained were waiting hopelessly in the audience. But sadly, Jello's rallies had become so infested with PMRC agents that it was becoming harder and harder for Jello's adoring fans to see him live in person.

Jello began his speech. "Blah blah blah patriotism blah blah blah America blah blah blah."

Jello's speech continued on like this for sometime. A wave boos flowed over Jello like they were nothing. People threw tomatoes, tomatoes that they should throwing at statues of Dan White, at Jello. The tomatoes hit Jello square on, turning into ketchup, and not the good McDonalds ketchup either, and yet Jello felt nothing.

But one thing an audience member said hit Jello like a tsunami. They said, "Your speeches are boring, long, and self indulgent, just like Rick Wakeman's songs!"

Jello fell over onto his back, presumably unconscious, but in front Jello appeared an image of JFK, also known as John Fortnite Kennedy.

"Jello!" said John Fortnite Kennedy, "You're being one fake motherfucker right now! And what for? So you can bow down to the man? So that you can get the vote of all these baby boomer bitches? Are you really going to take that Jello? The me generation is ruining the world! The world need punk rock so that they can stop being so stupid!"

"But John Fortnite Kennedy," Jello said meekly, "What if the people of America don't accept my messages because I don't capitulate to the American people's idealistic views of a president?"

"Well then those people can go fuck themselves."

"Well why don't you just run for president yourself JFK?"

"Oh Jello, I already did that, and now I'm dead." JFK glanced at his watch. "Well Jello, it seems my time with you is up, but remember, ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country."

JFK's image disappeared as vaguely as it appeared, and with it, a new wave of enthusiasm spread over Jello. Jello leapt onto his feet, and his trademark inflammatory grin came over his face. "In conclusion, fuck capitalism, fuck the PMRC, and fuck Tipper Gore!"

Jello's fans went into an uproarious applause, but the few dozen PMRC agents in the audience were not so pleased. They climbed up onto the stage and encircled Jello. Perfect. Jello did a spinning roundhouse kick, sending every single PMRC agent flying several miles away.

"Jello!" Someone shouted.

Jello turned to face his oppressor. It was… Prince! His were glowing red with rage and his stance had widened as though he were preparing for a fight. "Prince, please don't do this to me, I don't want to fight you! We were friends! You were like a brother to me! But you chose to corrupt my mind!"

"No Jello!" Prince rebuked. "It is you who is attempting to corrupt me! You are trying to allow the PMRC to rise to power intentionally so that you could take over the NMCDF!"

"That's not true! Have seen the audience of my recent rallies? No real people! All PMRC agents! You know Prince, I'll tell you why I don't think your campaign strategy worked. The people resonate with new, revolutionary ideas. Often times politicians bring these in the form of empty promises, and that is what you have forced me to bring to the people. You see, I don't accel at lying to people like Tipper Gore does, I accel at telling people the truth."

"We'll see who's campaign strategy was effective tomorrow night at the polls!" The fire in Prince's eyes grew brighter. "For now, let's fight!"

And here is were we leave you. On the border of a fight between two former friends, turned foes. Will Jello be able to subdue Prince, and hopefully turn his mind back to the side of punk rock? Will Jello be elected president? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 23: Jello Runs for President Part 4**

We find Jello facing his oppressor. Formerly a friend, Prince would offer Jello no help in this fight. They were nothing but enemies now. Prince's eyes glowed a violent red.

"Come on Jello!" Prince shouted, "Attack me already!"

"I will not do that," Jello explained, "I will only attack if it is in self defense."

Prince scoffed. "You're just afraid to attack me aren't you? You still think of us as friends! How sad, how deplorable!"

"Is there anything so wrong with that? Is it wrong for me to hope that there can be a peaceful solution? To aspire to a future where punk rock can live in harmony with the rest of society?"

"Hope and aspirations are for men who are dead and forgotten! And soon you will be one of those men!"

"That is where you are wrong Prince!" Jello shouted. "You have been accepted by the masses. You have been indoctrinated into consciousness of society, and therefore you will be remembered as nothing but another worn out brick in the wall."

"Those will be your last words Jello!" Prince shouted back, "And sadly for you, no one will remember them!" Prince placed both of his hands out in front of himself, keeping them close to one another. A blue light began forming on Prince's palms. Jello stood opposite of Prince, confused but still in a defensive position. The blue light grew to roughly the size of a bowling ball before a beam shot out of Prince's hands. The laser got within a few inches of Jello, but luckily he managed to leap several dozen feet into the air, leaving only the bottom of his shoes mildly singed. The wall behind Jello; however, did not fare so well. A large hole had been melted into it. The section of the wall had simply dissipated like ice on a hot summer day. What remained of the wall was nothing but steam.

Jello landed on two feet, but was awestruck at what Prince had made of that poor, innocent wall. But Jello's awe would not last forever, because it was interrupted by the sound of Prince's footsteps. Prince ran at Jello with lightning fast speed. Prince lifted his fist into, ready to attack, but Jello dodge rolled off the stage and into the awestruck crowd. Prince's fist collided with the stage, destroying it instantly and leaving a crater with a 40 foot radius in its place. Prince's attack created a 9.3 magnitude earthquake that knocked Jello and his fans to there feet and causing stage lights to cascade from the ceiling.

With the stage destroyed, the only thing protecting Jello's fans from Prince's unfiltered rage was Jello himself. Prince went in for another punch, but this time Jello couldn't dodge it, otherwise it would hit his fans. As the punch landed, time seemed to stop. Jello's face could be seen contorting in all sorts of strange ways before time once again returned to normal and Jello flew backwards, knocking his fans down like bowling pins, and sending his crashing face first into the wall.

Jello pushed himself up off of the wall, of which he had been embedded several feet into. He stood triumphantly on his two feet. He pointed directly at Prince and said, "Prince, you can hurt me. You can hurt me all you want. You can try to turn me into a slave to society, but don't you dare hurt my potential voters!" Jello snapped his fingers. A blast of air so powerful was emitted from Jello's fingers that Prince collided with the wall opposite of Jello. Prince crashed against the wall but bounce off of it, sending him crashing face first into the ground.

Prince, defeated and out of energy looked up to see Jello standing over him. A menacing shadow formed over Jello's eyes. "Please!" Prince begged. "Don't kill me!"

Jello scoffed. "Heh, do you think I'd sink that low? Do you think I would sink as low as the likes of you? I would never hit somebody while they're down. The fact that you think I would even consider it is despicable. I'll tell you this though, if I ever have the displeasure of seeing you again, I won't go easy on you."

Jello returned to his apartment where he closely watched the election results. Jello watched the votes for both George W. Bush and Al Gore slowly count up. Jello wasn't even close to them. It would take Jello years of training if he wanted to run again in the next election. But Jello wasn't concerned about that right now. Jello wanted to know, would Bush win, and still be an overall pretty bad president, or would Al Gore win, and allow his wife Tipper Gore and the PMRC to suppress punk rock permanently. The final results were in. Jello earned 2,882,955 votes, Bush earned 50,456,002 votes, and Al Gore earned… 50,999,897 votes. Jello sighed. It seemed as though punk rock was over for good. But then, CNN's very own Wolf Blitzer came on the TV. "It seems as though George Bush has won." Jello was so shocked that he grabbed his TV. Then Jello realized, that the people's vote didn't actually matter, and that only the votes of the electoral college mattered. Thank god for corrupt political systems and faux democracy! Now the US government would just be incredibly shitty instead of oppressively shitty! And most important of all, punk rock was saved!

And here is were we leave Jello, with a small glimmer of hope for the future! What will Jello do to secure the safety of punk rock in the future? What will Jello do now that he is independent from the NMCDF? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 24: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 1: Jello Joins the Fray.**

We find Jello cold and alone, meandering aimlessly the streets of San Francisco.

"What am I going to do now?" Jello thought dismally aloud.

Jello moped about in a manner similar to this for some time, that is until something caught Jello out of the corner of his eye. Came to a halt quickly, causing the soles of his already worn out shoes to be ground down further. Jello eyed the poster suspiciously. On it in a bold font was written, "Looking for members to form a punk rock band." This was it. This could be Jello's opportunity to finally break into the punk rock scene. He continued to scan the flier. At the very bottom, it read, "If interested, meet me _tonight_ in the east bay." Jello crumpled the paper triumphantly in his fist. He crammed it inside his pocket.

Jello turned to his left and climbed onto a bus to east bay, because Jello just so happened to be at a bus stop, which wasn't a surprise considering that San Francisco has a thriving public transportation ecosystem. And, because of San Francisco's thriving public transportation ecosystem, Jello had arrived at east bay within the hour, which was a blessing and a curse because it meant that Jello had arrived before sundown, meaning that it was technically not _tonight_, meaning that Jello would have to wait for a few minutes before whomever it was that placed the posters up would show up, because whomever it was that placed the posters up made it very clear to meet them _tonight_.

But as Jello stepped off the bus, it seemed that his position in the band would not be guaranteed as he once thought. A crowd of around 200 had gathered in the designated meeting place, and unless this was a marching band, Jello was pretty sure that this many people couldn't be in a band.

Jello stood around for a few minutes, and as soon as the sun was entirely concealed behind the horizon, a shadowy figure leapt from a nearby alleyway. It did a triple front flip before landing on its feet in the center of the crowd. Upon seeing this incredible stunt, the crowd began cheering, but they were swiftly cut off by the mysterious figure shouting into a megaphone. "Alright shut up and stop cheering before I kick all your asses, and believe me, I can and will kick your ass." The crowd began to quiet down, but one audience member didn't get the memo, and so the figure rushed through the crowd, pushing the noisemaker with such veracity that he flew backwards and crashed into the wall behind the crowd. The figure returned to centerstage. "Ok, now that that's out of the way, I bet you're all wondering why I've gathered you here _tonight_. Well, you shouldn't be, it said it on the fucking flier, and if you were wondering, then leave, because your puny minds are too useless to be part of something this meaningful." About half the crowd left. "Good, now I can see which of you are actually serious about this."

Jello felt a sense of relief that someone so confident and intellectual was going to be at the head of whatever was going on right now.

"I have gathered you here today so that I may find new members for the latest and greatest punk rock band ever. Now, this obviously isn't going to be a marching band, so I'm going to have to cut you down to three people. Each and every one of you, should you choose to accept the challenge, will fight to the death, slowly climbing your way up the punk rock ladder until you reach the top three, at which point I will have my band. Any questions?"

One individual raised their hand. The figure did a running jump kick towards the audience member, kicking them square in the jaw and sending them flying several hundred yards away from the gathering.

The figure returned to his central position. "Alright, any more questions?" The crowd was silent. "Good." The figure pulled a big red button out of his pocket that was connected to absolutely nothing and pressed it. A hole opened in the ground and the crowd fell through. A small platform remained upon which stood the figure. The crowd fell through a series of increasingly smaller tubes; the competitors were being divided up.

After a good bit of falling, Jello landed in a classy hotel room onto a soft comfortable bed. But, before Jello could sit up, another man collided atop him. After Jello regained his senses, he asked, "Who are you?"

Standing in front of Jello was a strapping young lad wearing a loose fitting button-up shirt and round, thick-rimmed glasses. "I could be asking you the same thing," said the lad in a joking manner.

"I suppose you're right. The names Jello, Jello Biafra."

The two shook hands welcomingly. "I suppose we won't be so chummy in the arena, will we?" The man turned to leave, but as he was about to step out into the hall he looked at Jello once more and said, "The name's Flouride, Klaus Flouride." And as quickly as the two had met, they had separated. Jello loneliness made his large, cushy hotel room seem like a dank, cavernous dungeon.

Jello sat alone for some time, taking in his surroundings, but he was interrupted by a paper being slid under the door. Jello picked it up and looked it over. It had some basic information, like when meals would be served, or where to do your laundry, stuff like that. But at the bottom of the page was listed tomorrow's matchups. Jello scanned the page over quickly, for a few moments Jello feared his name had not been listed, but eventually he found it, and his fears subsided. Tomorrow evening, Jello would be facing someone name Robbie the Werewolf.

And here is where we leave Jello. Scared but hopeful. Will we discover who the mysterious shadowy figure behind this tournament is? Will Jello be able to succeed in the punk rock tournament? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

**Chapter 25:The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 2: Robbie the Werewolf**

We find Jello where we left him; in a lush, yet vaguely unsettling hotel room, awaiting his fight against the mysterious 'Robbie the Werewolf'. Jello's time was approaching swiftly. A knock was heard on the door. Jello swung the door open in anticipation. His heart was beating out of his chest. Behind the door was waiting a man of a slightly unsettling nature.

"Your time has come, Jello." The unsettling man smiled a dastardly grin, revealing his rotten teeth.

Jello quivered. He attempted to sputter out a response, but failed utterly, leaving the conversation between him and the unsettling man lost in a sort of conversational purgatory.

The unsettling man drew closer to Jello's face in anticipation of a response, still maintaining the same stilted grin. After several confounding moments, the man said, "Follow me." Then took off down the hallway. Jello followed the unsettling man posthaste. For such a short, decrepit man, he sure could move quickly. Luckily, Jello managed to keep up. After some walking, Jello found that the unsettling man had stopped. He lifted his hands to his side, as though presenting Jello with something. "Here is your waiting room." He opened the door with one hand, while maintaining the same presentory pose with the other.

Jello stepped into the room. It was about what one would expect from a waiting room. Some benches, some lockers, a bathroom area. For people who were about to be sent to their possible deaths, they sure didn't make it very comfortable.

Jello figured that if he wasn't ready now, he never would be. He stepped out into the arena. The arena was huge. It was a circular affair with a radius of about three football fields. I don't really know how long a football field is, but yeah, football! The stadium was completely enclosed on all sides by hundreds of thousands of spectators. The ceiling was entirely concrete, meaning that the stadium was underground, and that there would be no escape.

Standing across the stadium from Jello was someone that was presumed to be Robbie the Werewolf. Aside from his slightly pointed and transylvanian appearance, Robbie was relatively normal. He was dressed in a standard, but classy, black and white suit. He was holding an acoustic guitar. Jello figured if he was just using an acoustic guitar, he couldn't be too challenging of an opponent.

The shadowy figure from before came over the loudspeaker. "Will the two contestants please approach the center of the arena to shake hands."

The two met each other centerfield. Jello lifted his hand in front of him. Robbie grasped his hand firmly. "I'll be making a deposit at the blood bank tonight," said Robbie, "And the blood will be all yours."

"Let the battle begin!" exclaimed the announcer.

Robbie sprinted toward Jello with his guitar slung behind him like a baseball bat. Jello attempted to react, but he was not allowed enough time. Robbie's guitar hit him square in the jaw. Jello fell to the floor, grasping his jaw in agony. But there would be no time for pain. Robbie once again came at Jello with his guitar. But Jello was too busy wincing in pain to notice! Robbie swung at him full force, this time hitting the other side of his jaw. Jello _screamed_! For that was all he could do. Jello had no idea how formidable the opponents faced in this tournament could be. Robbie was coming in for the finishing blow. Jello clenched his fists, bit his lip, and swallowed his pain. He would not allow the future of punk rock, nay the future of the world, to be in the hands of anybody but himself. Robbie swung down his guitar, this time aiming for the top of Jello's head. In the last second, Jello rolled out of the way, leaving just the tips of his hair damaged.

The guitar slammed into the ground, leaving behind it a sizable crater but resulting in the utter destruction of the guitar itself. Robbie grinned a dastardly smile, revealing to the world his vampiric set of chompers. He bared his fangs to the world, tearing down upon Jello full force. But Jello had figured out Robbie's tricks. As Robbie's teeth were about to meet Jello's flesh, Jello lifted his fist in the air, causing it to collide painfully with Robbie's jaw.

Robbie met the floor, and his fangs met their demise. Jello stood above his oppressor. "You've lost Robbie, I've eliminated your trump card."

"Not yet you haven't!" Robbie replied. He quickly gathered up the strings of his crippled guitar, then whipped them into the air. The stadium went dark, all but for a single round light that seemed to illuminate the stadium like the subtle light of the full moon.

"What did you do?" Jello questioned.

Robbie chuckled. "I've broken all the lights in the stadium!"

"But you've left one in tact! It seems that you've failed!"

"Jello you fool!" Replied Robbie. "What is my name!"

"Robbie?"

"No, think harder Jello, what is my full name!"

"Robbie the Werewolf."

Robbie laughed. "Good, your feeble mind finally figured it out! And now, beneath the light of the simulated full moon, I shall reveal to you my true form!"

Robbie's skin began to contort and morph in ways that the human integumentary system should not move. A thick brown fur sprouted from each of Robbie's pores. His legs grew wolf-like, and claws extended from his fingers. He howled beneath the sudo-moonlight.

The beast formerly known as Robbie came at Jello. It swiped at Jello, cutting his prized 'What would Jello do?' shirt clean in two. Jello was delirious, but when he noticed the remains of his favorite shirt, he was enraged. When Robbie came at him once more, this time with his dogged mouth wide open and ready to bite, Jello leapt into the air, and bore down upon his opponent with the soles of his shoes. He collided with Robbie's wet nose, knocking Robbie to the ground, whimpering and in pain.

The judge came over to Jello's downed opponent. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5…

Jello stood triumphantly, though his true feeling differed.

6… 7… 8…

Jello felt his heart beat out of his chest. Robbie was trying to stand up, but he failed again and again.

9…

Robbie managed to push his own torso upward with his hairy arms. The crowd stood silent. He stood suspended somewhere between up and down… before collapsing back to the ground.

10…

Jello breathed a single sigh of relief before too collapsing to the floor.

And here is where we leave Jello. Who will his next opponent be? If he barely managed to defeat his previous opponent, how will he succeed against his next? Find out next time on Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!


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